Seeing Stars
by Jay Rease
Summary: I'm Richard Brendon Berry.  Gold stars are sort of my thing.  Faberry Prompt Fill.  Gender Swap  BoyBerry
1. Chapter 1

Title: Seeing Stars.

Author: J Rease

Rating: M

Summary: I'm Richard Brendon Berry. Gold stars are sort of my thing. Faberry Prompt Fill. Please see author's note.

Warnings: Graphic sex. Gender swapping. AU.

A/N: I've been getting messages about not updating as often as I should. As a writer, I sometimes need diversity to stay creative. I get bored with ideas or sometimes plotting and canon gets hard. Other times I just need to not write something and try my hand at something new. It's not intentional. It's my only form of comfort, and I can assure many of you; I don't abandon, or forget about any of my stories. I write constantly. I write during work, and I rush home to write more. When I'm not writing I'm reading… and I tend to ignore real life people to do it. Around the hustle and bustle of my life, I write—fanfiction or otherwise, and it almost always takes priority. With that being said, I offer what was sent to me as a distraction, another prompt fill.

**Prompt: I need some Boy!Berry first time fic. Rated obscene! Can be slash (Kurt/Boy!Berry, or Karofsky/Boy!Berry). But I don't mind if it's het (Boy!Berry/Quinn or Boy!Berry/Santana). Basically, PWP… But you can pretend there's some kind of plot. Oneshot is fine, any genre you choose. **

This weekend, I hope to lock myself in my bedroom and write until next week. Hopefully I can update chapters across the board. I'm continuously flattered with how enthusiastic readers are. Thank you for all your feedback. And I swear, I'll one day start a story without a giant author's note.

Enjoy.

**Prologue**

You're running. You can feel the burn in your chest as you measure each breath between pants. You're silently thankful for the breathing exercises you do daily as you push past people in your way. You dart and maneuver around throngs of students loitering the hallways. You can hear their heavy feet thudding against the linoleum as they chase you—you suddenly marvel in the miracle that you're faster than them both. You chance a glance behind you as you sprint; they're running—tall and obvious in their letterman jackets. You face forward and nearly collide with Brittany Pierce, her books tumbling to the floor. You don't have time to apologize, and you run faster toward Figgin's office. A tan leg juts into your view before you can avoid it, and you hear Santana Lopez snicker at you as you crash to the floor.

"Watch where you're going, freak."

You watch her turn away as two massive hands grip your shoulders and lead you toward the boy's bathroom. Puckerman slams you against the wall as you watch Finn lock the door. These Neanderthals rarely resort to violence, but you can't help the fear creeping into your voice.

"Wh-what do you want?"

You feel Puck press you harder into the wall.

"Don't play stupid, Berry. Why were you talking to Quinn earlier?" He grips your shirt tighter.

Your day flashes before your eyes as you remember and your eyes shift between the two football players. Puck slams you against the wall again for good measure and your answer spews out of your mouth in jumbles.

"She joined the glee club and I had to give her a practice schedule!"

Puck looks back at Finn and smirks as he brings his gaze back to you.

"Bullshit, fairy. My girl wouldn't join Homo Explosion. Now stop lying to me before I break that beak on your face!"

You gulp unintentionally.

"Mr. Schuester just told me to give it to her… something about extra credit for his class—that's all I know!"

Puck is staring at you like he doesn't believe you. He drags you by the collar over to an open stall.

"If I find out you're lying you little shit, I'll break your face."

Puck pushes your head into a thankfully unused toilet bowl and he flushes it a few times before stepping back.

"And if you talk to my girlfriend again without my permission it'll be worse."

You hear Finn unlock the door and you wait for them to leave before moving to the sink to wash your hair. After a few minutes of scrubbing, you shake the water from your hair and stare into the mirror. You're used to this; being at the bottom. You're Richard Brendon Berry. The guy with two moms and no friends. The guy everyone hates for no reason. Well… for stupid reasons. You didn't need another enemy. Especially an enemy like Noah Puckerman. You'd been discreet when you cornered his girlfriend on the way to the cafeteria; but apparently not discreet enough. You dry your face with paper towels and pull off both your blue oxford and argyle sweater. The t-shirt you're wearing underneath is only damp at the collar, but you don't have an extra change of clothes since Dana Karofsky slushied you this morning. You sigh out loud and make your way back to where you dropped your bag before you started running.

The rest of your day passes without a hitch, and you shuffle into Glee ten minutes early. You watch the original members trickle in and you give Mr. Schue an additional ten minutes before starting rehearsals. You _are_ captain after all. You begin to pass out sheet music when you hear other people enter the choir room.

"Q, how did the vest wearing hair gel smuggler finagle you into joining Losers-R-Us? And why'd you have to bring me and Britts into it?"

You hear Quinn mumble something under breath before she sits down in the back row. Mr. Schue's hand clap interrupts what you were about to say; so you sit down and let him drone on about the new members and spreading the word. The rest of practice zooms by, and before you leave, Schue sits down and asks for a run through. You roll your eyes before speaking.

"Mr. Schue, I refuse to perform without an adequate leading lady. I need someone who can keep up with me vocally. We've been practicing dance routines for almost an hour. While I believe wholeheartedly that they can dance, I have yet to hear any of them sing."

You watch Mr. Schuester pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Rich…. While you obviously have no faith in my leadership abilities—Quinn, Santana and Brittany have already auditioned. Quinn will be soloing the Grease number. So—let's start that run through!"

You all get up lazily and get into position. Sandy's verse begins and you're momentarily awestruck. Somewhere you swear angels are weeping tears of happiness. You're instantly entranced as you run circles around the rest of the club, following the blonde through the motions. You're partially aware of how crazy you must be, swooning over Quinn Fabray through song. You don't care much, but you're sure she is very aware; she's running away from you. Mercedes suddenly stops singing and steps out of chorus.

"Oh hell to the no! I ain't no backup singer—especially not to this bony little Cheerio!"

You step between the girls before Quinn has a chance to reply.

"Mercedes… yesterday, we sucked. Today… we actually sound pretty good."

The club nods and mumbles their agreement. You watch Mercedes roll her eyes before shrugging.

"Fine. But this better not happen on a regular basis."

Mr. Schue tells you to take it from the top; and you quickly enamor yourself with the blonde with the angelic voice. You think quickly how awesome glee will be this year and you leave with a smile on your face. You walk home with pep in your step and wonder why you've never noticed the head cheerleader before. Everyone knew she was beautiful. They also knew she was completely off limits. You can't help but love how well your voices blend together. But you're more in love with the possibilities.

000 0000 000


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes**: So as I was writing I realized that I wanted to make my story somewhat canon, in the midst of all this AUness. Consequently, some other characters are now being gender swapped (to make sense of the canon I am using). These characters will include: Jacob Ben Israel, Kurt Hummel, Coach Sylvester, Shelby, Dave Karofsky—(and by association Azimio). Hopefully you guys like what I did with the characterizations, and hopefully the fluidity of my plot can be directly associated to how things happened on the show. Spoilers will stretch between the Pilot and end at the Power of Madonna (which should end the fic because… well this is supposed to be a prompt fill with more Porn than Plot). This little prompt is turning into a monster already, but I think that's okay since I actually like playing in this universe. Feedback is always appreciated.

All mistakes are mine.

Chapter One:

You're smaller than most of the guys in your sophomore class. Your mother, Loraine, once called you "petite" to describe the caliber of your frame. Your other mother, Hanna, quickly followed up with some Jewish anecdote that was supposed to make you feel better; but it didn't. Freshman year, you signed up for every extracurricular activity you could. Diversity was key if you were going to get into Julliard someday. You even signed up for football. Having two gay moms and an affinity for show tunes afforded you a reputation you couldn't get rid of. So naturally, being athletic would have been a great neutralizer at McKinely high. But _realistically_, you're too short, too weak, and too scared to play football—at least… according to Coach Stew Sylvester you are.

Football rules in this school. The McKinely Titans were seven time consecutive champions and all around town legends. And that was before the terrible twosome joined the team. Puck and Finn; two of your biggest rivals. Once they made the team, they made your life hell. And of course, they were dating some of the most popular girls in school. Brittany was Finn's on again off again girlfriend. Santana was dating the right hand man, Matt Rutherford. And of course, Puck was dating Quinn. The girls weren't angels either. The three Cheerios formed the Unholy Trinity; the trifecta of evil in pretty red skirts. Not that you got remotely close to their skirts often. Well… before glee you hadn't, at least.

Quinn Fabray was like kryptonite to your senses. She usually just belittled you, and kept on her way, her loyal minions prancing behind her—pinkies linked. You sometimes wonder when the line of succession starts, because you're sure all of you were very much nobodies the year before. Freshman year, you were invisible. Before joining glee club landed you all kinds of labels. Before everyone's growth spurts and hormone changes you were the kid people basically ignored. Somehow you find yourself on everyone's radar these days.

You blink back into the lesson being regurgitated at the front of the class and you get a pass for the bathroom. You stride quickly down the corridor before a distraction peaks the sensitivity of your ears. There's oddly no one in the hallway, most of the kids chose to sit under the bleachers when they cut class. Interested, you abandon the need to use the bathroom, and slide against the wall to the source of hushed whispering around the corner.

"Puck… I'm serious. I have a bun in the oven."

You can hear a shuffle of feet and a clang of metal meeting an angry fist.

"It's not mine, Brittany. Weren't you and Finn—"

"We aren't together. And you knew that then. I'm like, completely sure it's yours. What are we going to do about it?"

"You're going to get rid of it- duh. The Puckster doesn't do kids, Britts. Handle it. And keep it hush hush, okay?"

"I don't kill babies. This is your fault anyway. You were all, 'Hey Britts, drink this' and then you went all ceilings and Mickey Mouse on me. I'm having this baby and I'm going to need your help."

You lean closer to the edge of the wall, trying to listen a little harder at the rough whispers coming from where they are standing.

"Look—Quinn can't know, okay? Just… maybe you could pass it off as Finn's. I'll handle all the other stuff later. I can't… she can't find out –not yet."

"Don't you think I know that? Quinn's one of my best friends. I was really drunk and it was the only time—do you really think she'll forgive me if she finds out? Look. I just needed you to know okay? I took the test and… and I'm sure. I just—I just thought you should know that you're going to have a baby.

You hear Puck call Brittany's name repeatedly as her footsteps disappear down the adjacent hall. You don't hear Puck move until he's crashing into you—and you feel his familiar hands lifting you off the ground and shoving you into the bathroom you should have used earlier. He has your arm twisted behind your back, and he presses your face against the wall, nudging his elbow into your spine.

"What did you hear freak?"

You contemplate lying. You know you should lie and try your best to make it believable. Your acting is superb, but you're sure the fear will give you away in your duress. He grabs a fist full of hair before snatching your head back, his mouth close to your ear as you listen to his erratic breathing.

"If word gets out, Berry, you're dead. Every day you come in here… you're dead. Got it?"

You nod as quickly as your neck allows and he backs off you almost instantly.

You don't breathe until you hear the door close behind him on his way out.

000 0000 000

You were slushied three times today. Twice by Puck and once by Dana Karofsky. He's making sure you don't take his threat lightly. When glee is over, you walk to your locker to retrieve your things, hoping to make it to the bus without seeing someone you are avoiding. A shadow follows you from some hidden place behind you, and you see a figure darting from your peripheral.

"Hello Richard."

You tense. You know that voice. You don't want to turn around, but you know if you ignore the girl her stalking will only get worse. You sigh loudly before spinning on your heel.

"Yes Jackie?"

Jackie Ben Israel is the only Jewish girl in Lima you refuse to date. Not that you've dated any other Jewish girls; or any girl for that matter. It wasn't because she was unattractive, although she'd get better reception if she combed her curly, frizzy hair. Instead it was her aggressive pursuit of you. The girl has been lewdly offering her virginity to you since your bar mitzvah, and you've been denying her unladylike propositions since then.

"I have some juicy news that may or may not involve you..."

You don't want to take the bait. Things like this happen often with Jackie, and you've unintentionally given her way too much information of yourself. You'd be flattered by the blog dedicated to you if the thought of it didn't creep you out.

"I don't have time for this today, Jackie, so just spit it out."

She smiles a smile that reminds you too much of a rodent before pushing her glasses higher on her face.

"Well, I overheard a very interesting conversation between you and Noah "Puck" Puckerman earlier today."

Your eyes crawl somewhere toward your hairline in confusion.

"How did you? We were in the boy's bathroom-"

"That is private information, Mr. Berry. Now, before I denounce Brittany Pierce from her throne of popularity, and shame the one and only Quinn Fabray with her inability to keep her man... I thought I would talk you first."

You roll your eyes.

"Well, as I was saying, I overheard your conversation. If I were to release this tidbit of information, Puck is going to rearrange your very handsome face,"

She reaches toward your cheek and you flinch before she makes contact. The same smile curves Jackie's upper lip.

She straightens before continuing.

"And we can't have that, can we? So, I have a proposition for you, Rich."

You sigh, only because she's right. You sigh again, this time because you know her proposition will be of a sexual nature.

"And what's that proposition, Jackie?"

She smiles

"Oh nothing too big,"

The way her eyes roll down your body and settle on the crotch of your khakis makes you blush. Jackie bites her lip and follows the trail back to your eyes before continuing.

"All I want to keep your secret is seven minutes..."

You are confused momentarily.

"Well, Jackie, you've already used up so much of my time and I-"

"In heaven, Richard... seven minutes in heaven."

You laugh.

"That's not going to happen."

"Well, I hope Puck doesn't break your nose... such a fragile thing..."

She turns on her heel, and begins to walk away. She only stops when you call out for her to wait. You aren't scared of Puck, really, but you don't feel like dealing with the unnecessary harassment of the entire football team if this were to get out. You tell yourself you're doing this for Quinn instead, and not because you are developing feelings for her. You tell yourself you'll keep Puck's secret only because Quinn doesn't deserve the backlash.

"I'll make a compromise. No physical contact, no dates, no nude pictures. What else do you want?"

Jackie turns to face you slowly, once again chewing her thin bottom lip between her teeth. A light bulb switches on somewhere and she grins, delighted with herself.

"A pair of your underwear. A pair you've worn and haven't washed. Preferably the ones you are wearing right now."

You scrunch up your face.

"And this stays between us? For good?"

Jackie nods. You reach out your hand and she shakes it enthusiastically. She bounces on her heels before squealing, and you wonder what she will do with your underwear. You block the thoughts of shrines and rituals before handing her your book bag to hold.

"Give me five minutes, and don't follow me. And don't go through my bag."

You feel like you'll regret this, but you are a bit happier knowing Puck won't pummel you upon sight if this story leaks. You duck into an empty bathroom, and you pull your boxer briefs off and before pulling your pants up and buckling your belt. You stuff your folded underwear into your pocket, and you make your way outside toward Jackie Ben Israel.

It was going to be a long year.

000 0000 000

"Your partners will be chosen by fate!"

You groan. You hate Mr. Schue. His teaching practices are subpar, and he often takes credit for things he has nothing to do with. Ballads. People walk up to the hat and pick out names. You don't realize your name is called until she sits beside you. You see Puck across the room, partnered with Mercedes, and he grinds his fist into his open palm.

You gulp. You sit through the entire ballad Katherine Hummel and Mr. Schue get through, your ears bleeding from the shrill saccharinity Katherine is exuding. Everyone can smell Katherine's gay, but she continues to pretend otherwise- making awkward mooning eyes at a confused Mr. Schue. Schue ends the performance, unsettled, and dismisses you all for the end of the day.

"I have celibacy club. After that we can go to the auditorium and get this over with."

She says it sideways to you, stoic and bored with your presence. There is something attractive about the front Quinn Fabray puts up. She's always so icy and untouchable... but beautiful enough that you allow her to treat you that way. She makes you hate her and want to be around her all the same.

"I guess I'll go to celibacy club... it's open to everyone right?"

Quinn grimaces.

"Well Figgins has this anyone can join policy, but _you_ shouldn't actually attend. Maybe you can lurk in the auditorium and do whatever it is fairies do there by themselves."

You would be offended, but her insults are lackluster today, and you aren't sure if she has bags under her eyes or if she just wasn't wearing makeup. You soften immediately, and wonder if she has finally caught on to what's been happening behind her back.

"Hey... are you okay? Like, I know we aren't friends or anything. But I can listen, if you need to talk."

She snaps her head toward you suddenly.

She is stunned for all of ten seconds, before you hear Puck shout a quick "Babe" from the doorway. Quinn squares her shoulders and stands, tossing her last few words over her shoulder.

"Watch yourself, Berry."

000 0000 000

The celibacy club meeting is more like a hang out spot for all the dating jocks and cheerleaders. Had you known that it started away from the girls, you would have been fashionably late. All of the letterman jackets are making you nervous, but there is enough testosterone in the room that you go unnoticed for a few minutes.

"So, Puckerman—how far have you gotten with her? Word on the street is Quinn won't give up the panties."

Puck is tossing a random football in the air, somehow managing to gloat through his pores.

"I mean—she lets me get to second base. It's cool for now. She thinks she's in control, but give me a couple weeks to seal the deal."

You scoff. You don't realize you did it so loudly until Puck's ball hit the floor.

"What was that, Fairy?"

"Uh, nothing-just had something in my throat."

Finn smirks. You feel them circling you before you can move from your vulnerable position in the corner. Puck gets close to your face, his nose centimeters away from yours.

"Maybe you should stay out of men's business, _boy_. You probably still can't hold your load Pussy Boy. Maybe you should cover your ears so we don't steal your innocence."

You have dirt on Puck that could easily end his reputation. But you value your safety, so you try your best to deflect without looking like a complete loser. You snort.

"Oh really? Because _real_ men count days until they can score. And for your information, I can probably control myself a lot better than you can, Puckerman."

The look on Puck's face is furious. You know he wants to hit you. You see his jaw clenching, and you're sure you would flinch if you weren't frozen in place. An angelic voice saves you from complete annihilation, and you breathe when Puck turns around to focus on his girlfriend. Quinn is followed by a group of Cheerios, and you roll your eyes when Jackie walks in behind them. Quinn raises a balloon, and all of the girls behind her smirk devilishly.

"You know the rules horn dogs, all you ever want is sex. If a balloon pops… an angel dies. We are learning about restraint today boys, partner up!"

Everyone moves before you can register what happens.

Jackie is in front of you with a damn balloon, and she forces it between you before pushing her hips toward yours. You stand still for a moment, taking in the football players with their girlfriends. Puck is grinding into Quinn with one leg on the floor until the balloon pops. Quinn, disgruntled, flinches backwards before blaming it on his zipper. Jackie is extremely close to you when you turn back around, and you back away before the balloon between you can pop.

"This is stupid! Not all guys are horn dogs. Some guys want romance just like girls do. Grow up!"

You walk away, and you distinctly hear Jackie Ben Israel ask, "Is that true?"

You make your way to the auditorium, offended by Quinn's choice of a boyfriend.

000 0000 000


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Well, I hadn't expected people would like this fic as much as that have. Thank you all for the reviews, alerts and favorites. Wrote this on my cell phone at work today… so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

Please Review.

Chapter Two:

The heavy double doors to the auditorium bang open. It jars you momentarily, and you drop the sheet music onto the piano before focusing your attention on who you hope to be Quinn storming down the darkened aisles. Celibacy club should have ended over thirty minutes ago, and you are slightly annoyed at her tardiness, but arguing over it would probably waste the odd forty minutes you still have left to practice for your glee assignment.

You've been working on arrangements since you stormed out of the club meeting, you would have left a long time ago, but you never pass up a chance to practice onstage. You tell yourself the only reason you stayed was because you reserved the space... but you're sure denial is setting in over your like for Quinn Fabray.

"Let's get this over with Berry."

Her voice snaps you out of the trance you'd been standing in, and you stop yourself from replying with a biting retort when you notice her face. It's perfect, as usual, but there is puffiness around her eyes and a tint of pink that hints that she'd been crying. You wonder idly if Quinn cries prettily, but you quickly shake it off and you chide yourself for being so insensitive. You know if you ask her if she's okay, she'll throw an insult and storm off, so you choose to ignore her temperament so you can prepare for your assignment on Friday.

"Um. Okay. Well, I've taken the liberty of rearranging our ballad. I had to change the second and third verse to fit the banter of the song. It just works better this way and I-"

"Did you mean what you said earlier?"

"What? You mean at the celibacy club meeting?"

Quinn bites her lip. She looks at you for a second, conflicted, but resolve settles on her face before she nods her head.

"Well, that too. But I was actually talking about what you said in glee. You'd listen, even though I'm not your friend?"

You're flattered, momentarily, that she would trust you with something that obviously makes her upset. You are also curious, what did she have to cry over-she had everything. You hope silently that she hasn't found out about the baby Brittany was having with Puck.

"Oh, well yes. I would definitely extend a shoulder for you to lean on, if you were in need of one. If not a shoulder then, yes my ears are perfectly capable of-"

She laughs an incredulous laugh before rolling her eyes nonchalantly toward the ceiling.

"You know, Berry, listening usually involves staying quiet."

You nod at her, but say nothing more. She is standing in front of the piano, toying with the edge of her Cheerios skirt. She blows air out of her cheeks before facing you with a determined stare.

"Look. Everything I say, stays here okay? I need an unbiased opinion on something... and my friends are kiss asses who won't give me any advice other than _never say no_. If I find out you told anybody-"

She laughs shakily and interrupts what she was saying.

"I mean... it's not like you have any friends or whatever, but no one can know I actually talked to you on purpose. No one; not even your gay moms. Got it?"

You nod, but you don't trust your voice to reply. Quinn Fabray, confiding in you. You square your shoulders at the same time she does, and you wait for her to speak. She breaks her stare with you and finds something behind you worth focusing on.

"Puck has been... aggressive lately. He's been pressuring me to, um, go all the way. It's getting hard to find excuses not to. I mean. We've been dating for a while and everything but- well, I'm not ready for that. How do I get him to not be so upset when I say no?"

You hadn't expected that to be what she needed to talk to you about. You expected her to recount how she found out about the fetus growing inside of her best friend. You expected her to tell you how she cried because she found out Puck's been cheating on her. It would have made sense. It makes you furious that she is so oblivious to everything that's been happening behind her back, but then you feel guilty that you've been one of the people responsible for keeping her in the dark. What makes you more upset is the guy talk you'd overheard earlier that day. You hate Puck a lot more now.

"Well... if he cares about you, he should respect your decision to wait. And, there are a lot of things besides sex you can do that entails a great amount of intimacy. Is that why you were crying? Did Puck say or do anything to-"

"It's not like that. I just. I told him after celibacy club that I had to meet you for practice. He asked me to walk him to his car and he's... he's just been trying really hard lately. And, when I am ready, I don't want to lose it in the cab of his truck you know? And it feels like if he can't get what he wants, he doesn't want to have anything to do with me. I hate that most guys are jerks."

She's staring at you again. It's insanely quiet. You fidget under her gaze momentarily.

"That's not true, Quinn. I mean... the first time is special. It's supposed to be something you share with someone you love."

Quinn quirks her eyebrow.

"How would you know?"

You shrug. You hate that everyone assumes that it's not that way for guys. You inch closer to her, you don't know why, but there is a pull that is tugging on your loafers and you don't stop yourself from entering her personal bubble. You expect her to create space between you, but she stays still, her eyes locked on your face as she waits for a reply.

"I never, well, I'm still a virgin... but I can have expectations... I want my first time to be magical. I don't want to waste it on some drunken night or some stupid mistake or... or the wrong person. I want love and magic and... romance."

She laughs. It's the first time you heard her laugh without malice in her voice. It's beautiful; you hope to yourself she will let you hear it more often.

"What do you know about _romance_, Berry?"

You smirk. You probably know a lot more about romance than Puck does. You are tempted to say that out loud, but you choose a safer route.

"I know... if I were dating a girl like you, we'd be having a picnic right here, on the stage."

You look around you, and smile when you see the prop box next to the sound equipment. You move over to it, and you rummage around until you notice the blanket and different shaped cups and utensils. You spread the blanket out on the floor and you walk back over to where Quinn is standing. You reach for her hand, and she tenses when you pull her toward the blanket. She relaxes slightly before settling down in front of you.

"We would have a picnic, and we would drink virgin mimosas and eat vegan sandwiches with the crusts cut off. We would talk and laugh and...we would have a great time without all the pressure. And I definitely wouldn't make you cry."

She is looking at you again. It's a skeptical stare. You probably went too far, but you look down at your hand and notice that she's still holding it. You don't talk anymore, and you take a moment to look at her. You are close enough to see the flecks of green in her eyes and smell the strawberries in her shampoo. You're definitely smitten. You are in like with a girl who has a boyfriend; a boyfriend who would literally kill you if he knew you were close enough to kiss her.

Your eyes dart to her lips. She licks them before you drift back to her eyes. She still hasn't said anything, but her eyes are low and heavy lidded. Your heart is hiccupping in your chest and you register each time it skips a beat.

"I'm going to kiss you now..."

You know it sounds stupid. Stupid and lame. You know she will probably slap you if you attempt it, but surprisingly her eyes flutter before closing. You panic momentarily, before leaning forward and letting your lips meet.

You have never kissed anyone. You never got invited to parties and you actually didn't have any friends. You don't know what you're doing; but she does. The kiss is chaste at first; you pucker your lips and move like you know how to lead. Her tongue drags across your bottom lip and you're sure there is no blood left above your neck. When her tongue drags across your lip again, you push yours against hers and you let your hand cup her cheek as she moves against you.

She leans against you until you are on your back, and she lets the full length of her body rest on top of yours. You hope she doesn't feel you pressing into her hip, and you're lost at what to do with your hands. You shift your beneath her and finally let your hands drop to her waist. You kiss her with a bit more force before pulling away to kiss along her jaw. Her perfume reminds you of clean linen. You taste it on her skin and you follow the scent to the pulse point on her neck.

One suck in particular causes her to take a sharp intake of breath. She pulls her hands away from your shirt and she fists them impatiently in your hair. When you flick your tongue over the same spot she shudders beneath you; you feel her thighs tense before she moans your name. You do it again and she pulls your hair, you let the sound of your first name dance in your ears and travel to the bulge forming in your khakis. You love the way she says it.

It's hard, no pun intended, to pull away from the erogenous zone, but you want to kiss her again- the feeling builds such an excitement in your chest. You work your way back to her lips and the hand resting on her waist travels slowly up her side and gently grazes the skin her Cheerios shirt made available when you shifted.

She pulls away from you fast, and stands up before tugging on her uniform. Her ears are red, and her cheeks are flushed. There is lip gloss smeared around her mouth, and when you lick your lips you marvel in the flavor she left there. She looks cornered, but before the panic settles on her face, her usual sneer replaces it.

"This never happened. Don't tell anyone about this."

Before you can reply, she's out of the door side stage. You would run after her, but the erection you're sporting keeps you rooted on the spot. You feel like crying. No matter how much your mother tells you that crying is okay, you hold back tears until your breathing evens out. You wonder why she pulled away. You silently hope that you weren't that bad of a kisser. Suddenly it dawns on you what you've done. Quinn has a boyfriend. Quinn shouldn't be kissing anyone but Puck. You feel like a jerk suddenly, because you took advantage of her at a vulnerable time. It dawns on you next that you might like Quinn a lot more than you first realized.

It's a sickening feeling. Quinn fell into the category of tormentor. Just as Puck did, just as Finn, Dana and Santana did. You feel like something is wrong with you for liking someone who seems to only treat you like dirt; well... when she's not ignoring your existence completely. But you reason that there is more to Quinn Fabray than her reputation. You hate that you like her... but who doesn't?

You're no longer aroused when the janitor comes into the auditorium. You wrap up and put away the blanket before saying good bye to Janitor Dan and you get ready to go home. Halfway to the bus stop you realize that you never got a chance to practice. You hope tomorrow Quinn will be willing to reschedule. A big part of you hopes that you won't catch crap for what happened; you already so much to deal with.

000 0000 000

You avoid her at school the next day. Not that she is looking for you. The lack of slushies to the face has you on edge. You've never made it through an entire day without getting one, so you expect to be slushied tenfold when you least expect it. You want to talk to Quinn. But each time you see her, she is conveniently with Puck and you can't chance a confrontation. You have most of your honors classes with Quinn, and during biology you sit together, thankfully, because of alphabetically assigned seating.

You write a small question (_When and where can we practice? And I'm sorry... about yesterday_) in the margin of your notebook and you slide it inconspicuously in front of her. She looks at it without moving her head and she writes something on the top of her own notebook. You read the pretty handwriting (_Not here... my house after school_) and you copy the address before writing something else (_I really wanted to apologize...)_ down.

Quinn scoffs out loud and rolls her eyes. She scribbles something down vehemently before turning back toward the front of the class. You don't look at it at first, but you stretch your arms before chancing a glance at her book. **'Not here'** is written in all caps and underlined twice, so you face forward and try to pay attention to something other than Quinn's perfume.

000 0000 000

Quinn's house is massive. Dudley Road is notorious for being lavish, and the Fabray house is no exception. You see Quinn's red coupe in the driveway, and a landscaping truck is parked behind it. It takes you a while to make it to her front door, and you straighten your hands over your cardigan before you ring the bell.

Quinn opens the door moments later, a bottle of water in her hand. She's scowling, and you momentarily rethink coming here. She moves out of the way and leads you to a study before mumbling something about changing before leaving the room. You sit on the couch in front of the fire place and let your eyes wander around the room. Anyone else would be thrilled to be welcomed into Quinn's home, but you're a little afraid of what she may say (or do) to you after what happened the day before.

When Quinn comes back, she's dressed casually. You can't remember ever seeing her out of her uniform, but her simple dress is flattering, and her hair is lovely out of the confines of her Cheerio mandated ponytail. She sits in a straight backed chair across from you and she folds her hands over her knees. It remains quiet between you until she clears her throat.

"So, shouldn't we be practicing or something?"

You didn't come here for that. Well, you did, but you were hoping to talk about the giant elephant sitting on the couch next to you.

"Actually we should talk about what happened yesterday."

Quinn shakes her head and chuckles.

"Nothing happened, Berry. It was a major lapse in judgment. It won't happen again, trust me."

You expected something like denial. You want to have a witty retort or some kid of rebuttal, but you don't. You remind yourself that this is real life, and that a girl like her would never be into a guy like you. It stings a little, she seemed into it yesterday. You sigh and just nod, before opening your satchel to find the sheet music you brought.

Quinn sighs dramatically across from you.

"Berry, don't look like such a kicked puppy. What did you think would happen? I'm with Puck and you're... _well you're you_. I was feeling down yesterday and you were just..._there_. Let's just act like it never happened."

"I-I can't do that. Look, I understand why you can't be seen with me. But you really shouldn't let Puck treat you the way he does. I mean, Quinn, you're beautiful... the most beautiful girl I have ever met actually... but he shouldn't treat you like a piece of meat. Especially when there are guys, including me, who are ready to step up to the plate."

She is looking at you, shocked. You are sure it's because people never talk back to her. She is royalty, after all. Somewhere devious in the back of your brain tells you that you could have her if you just told her what Puck was up to. But you don't want to face the backlash that will come with that news getting out.

"Look, lesbo-spawn. It was a mistake. I was upset at Puck and you were there. Don't think you can just evaluate my entire relationship at one weak, stupid moment. You got to kiss me, take it as a plus and keep your mouth shut."

You are officially offended. You stand up to say something but words escape you through your anger. You shove your sheet music back into your satchel and stalk toward the door to the study. You feel stupid for _**ever**_ liking her. You feel stupid for thinking that she would like you back. By the time you reach the front door, she is right behind you, her voice shaking with anger.

"You don't get to walk away from me, Berry!"

You stop right before your hand reaches the doorknob, and you pivot on your heel. You have to remind yourself that she's a girl.

"How dare you? You call me names and put me down and you act like you weren't kissing me back yesterday. And from where I was lying, you liked it a lot more than you let on-"

"Shut up! You don't know what you're talking about."

"No. I'm not going to keep taking crap from you! I've never done anything to you but you continue to make it hard for me. You know what, Quinn, I get it. You started picking on me because you like me-"

Quinn slaps you. It's fast but it still stings. You smirk, only because you know it will make her upset.

"I said shut up!"

You smirk. You like that she's getting upset.

"What are you going to do? Sic Puck on me? Go ahead. I took what I wanted yesterday. For the first time in my life I took what I wanted. You can sit here and try to convince yourself that you belong with Puck, and you can even fool yourself into thinking that you weren't kissing me back yesterday. Tell yourself whatever you have to, but at the end of the day, you kissed me back and you moaned **my name** yesterday. Not Puck's. You confided in _me_, not **your boyfriend**. Stop lying to yourself, Quinn. I know it's getting tiring."

She raises her hand again, you almost flinch when you realize that she is about to slap you again. You catch her wrist before it makes contact with your cheek and you pull her close to you. She's red all over. She's breathing hard and her nostrils are flaring. You push her away from you lightly, and you open the door. She doesn't stop you from leaving this time, and you're sure she probably stood in the same spot after you left. You feel satisfied with the look of shock you left on her face.

But you're more concerned with the fact that you might fail your glee assignment. You vaguely wonder what tomorrow will be like as you walk back to the bus stop.

000 0000 000


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I am following canon with this AU, so expect some twists and turns. Thanks to my beta, Lauren. All her help got me out of my rut with this chapter. Please review.

You're in the nurse's office. You rarely miss class and you are upset that you have to, but you're here. You've been slushied so many times today you haven't bothered to change out of your ruined clothes. There is a blue ring around your collar from the four times random football players decided to flush your head down the toilet. You've been hung from two different bathroom stall doors by your underwear. You took them off sometime around lunch, when you realized that they were ripped. Your eyes hurt, you're cold, and you have burn marks from where your underwear stretched against you.

You know most of the slushies were thrown by Quinn's orders, and you enjoy the fact that she's as upset as she is. The other half of the harassment, however, is from Puck. He's been throwing smoldering glances at you since first period, and by third period he ran out of threats to mouth at you, so he's been knocking you into lockers between classes. You slipped Quinn's sheet music with your adjustments into her locker at the beginning of the day, and you hope she actually takes the time to look over them before glee starts.

The bell rings and you slowly make you way to the choir room. No one ever gets there before you, so you sit toward the back and stare out of the window. You try not to be noticed as everyone trickles slowly in. Quinn walks in, oddly alone, and comes over to sit beside you. You don't acknowledge her, and she doesn't say anything to you. Puck walks in with Finn, and there is a fleeting look of panic before the normal hatred settles on his face. You straighten up, and you finally give in to looking at the blonde beside you.

"Did you at least look at the song? Or should I expect a failing grade?"

Quinn scowls at you before deflating, and answers your question.

"Don't worry, Berry, I never fail."

You say nothing more, and you drown out the sounds of Mr. Schuester's tepid enthusiasm. When he asks the class who would like to go first, all eyes shoot to you. You sigh and walk to the front, and you look to Quinn to begin the first verse.

The music starts. You panic slightly. You are always well prepared and professional. You take the time to perfect technique, and while you are great at performing on the fly- you aren't sure if Quinn is. She turns to you, and she sets her jaw before relaxing... she waits for her cue and she starts to sing. Suddenly you're right back at the first time you heard her. Your knees are weak; they would buckle under you if the adrenaline didn't keep you moving. She's directing the song at you and you can't really think through the fuzziness clouding your brain; or the heavy palpitations of your overworked heart.

Your body is running on autopilot. The ballad is a love song, and Quinn is playing up the emotions as she twirls around you. You follow her lead to avoid being left behind, and she smirks candidly before meeting your voice for the chorus. You boldly grab her hand, and you pull her closer to you. You stare directly into her eyes as you sing, and you refuse to break contact through the (impressive) note you're holding.

_That's when it happens. _

You're lost in the moment of the song. You can't register the words you are singing or the people who are watching. All you know is that Quinn is staring at you, the same way she did the first time you kissed her. Suddenly there is nothing but her. She is pulling you closer with that look; enticing you with some unknown voodoo. She squeezes your hand and she tilts her head as she sings, and you are lucky you can multitask because singing would be hard right now if you couldn't.

There is an awareness buzzing from where your hands are linked. You get through your verse and find yourself breathless, taken back through your memories at the thought of being this close to her again. Her face is flushed, and you take it to mean she feels it too, somewhere deep in her gut... the same place you feel it—_tingling_. You twirl her on her heel as she finishes the song, and she falls into you at the end, a quiet smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. You are close enough to smell her perfume. The song ended, but you stand there, one hand tucked into hers and the other resting on her waist. You can't seem to look away, and she seems glued to the spot as well. You are just staring into the endless amber of her mesmerizing eyes and you are taken with the sincerity staring back at you. She bites her lip and you come undone, and you are sure there is nothing better than this moment. And everything in your brain is egging you on to kiss her... because gravity is forcing you together—

"Wow you guys! That was awesome! That might even be perfect for an opening sectionals number! The choreography was natural, and... I am really impressed you guys."

You come crashing back to reality. Everyone is watching you, and some people are slowly clapping; confused at the chemistry you are sure gave something away. You feel the heat spreading to your cheeks and you let Quinn go. She straightens her face, then her Cheerios skirt, and tosses her ponytail over her own shoulder. She scoffs and mumbles something rude under her breath before walking over to Puck and sitting on the side not occupied by Mercedes. Mr. Schue pats you on the back, and you walk back to your seat in time to see Puck pull his finger across his neck in the most violent of messages.

You gulp, but you silently decide that it was worth it. You put the hand that's still buzzing in the pocket of your slacks, and smirk through the remainder of glee.

000 0000 000

The next time you see the hat of fate, it pairs you sadistically with Santana. You barely got through the last partnered project Schuester assigned, and you aren't ready to deal with the acid tongued Cheerio. You are working on mash-up ideas when Santana finally rings the doorbell; late. You trudge downstairs to answer the still chiming bell, and when you finally get to it, Santana is looking shadily over her shoulder. She barges past you without apology and stands, arms crossed, into your foyer.

"Took you long enough. I had to walk here to make sure no one saw my car in your driveway. Let's get this over with, Gold Dust."

You ignore the comment and you lead her to your bedroom. She sits daintily on your bed and runs through her vocal exercises before asking what you have planned for the assignment. You huff indignantly, and you wonder to yourself if you will ever be assigned a partner who actually does their share of the work. She's filing her nails while you explain to her the songs you have in mind; and you are trying to ignore the dusty remnants she's leaving on your dark blue comforter. It's annoying, the noise of the emery board scrubbing down her already perfectly manicured fingernails, so you pick up your guitar and tell her to follow your lead.

You run through two different ideas twice, and you both agree on your second choice. It's complimentary to both of your styles, so you set your guitar on the stand and suggest you run it through A cappella. You do, and by the beginning of the second attempt, she stops you, cupping her hands over her ears.

"I think we got it, Berry, my ears are bleeding from all your caterwauling— so I'm taking a break from the nasal sounds of your singing to let my ears relax before I go all homicidal on your vocal chords."

You roll your eyes. Santana scares you with violence more often than Puck or Finn does, but it's kind of sexy in that she could totally beat you up type of way. She quirks her head toward your guitar, before standing to finger the blue wood. You move around her to sit on your bed and you watch her appreciate your instrument. You notice how short her Cheerio's skirt is before hearing what she's actually saying.

"Wanna make out?"

You're only momentarily confused. Santana Lopez wouldn't be seen with you if everyone in the world were blind, let alone voluntarily kiss you. But you can't deny that the proposition is appealing. She's a gorgeous girl with a perfect body. And you're still a guy...you don't get a chance like this every day. More importantly, you're still _you_; you won't get a chance to kiss one of the most popular girls in school again. You fleetingly think about Quinn, and you rationalize that making out with Santana could be a very good way to get over the blonde. You stare at her for a while before finding your lost words.

"Aren't you with Matt?"

Santana rolls her eyes before chuckling from the bottom of her stomach. She stands in front of you with her hands on her hips.

"Yea that was like, last week..."

She moves quickly between your open legs. She doesn't sit; instead she bends over slightly and kisses you. You're dazed for a few seconds, but she's standing in front of where you are sitting on the bed, and she's kissing you slowly, experimentally. Her lips are luscious, and she presses them harder into your mouth when you start to reciprocate. Her tongue traces softly over your upper lip, and tingles trace down your spine. You wrap your hands around her tiny waist, you give in, and you let her tongue push against yours.

Santana is ..._experienced_. She's aggressive and she's passionate and she doesn't give you the choice to hesitate or slow down. The longer you kiss her, the easier it is to lose yourself in the sensations. When you tug on her hip she takes initiative and she straddles your lap and grinds down against you. Your voice is caught in your throat at the feeling, and when she does it again you let the moan choke out against her mouth. She smiles giddily against your parted lips, and you huff at her cockiness. She grinds into your lap again, and the involuntary buck of your hips creates such glorious friction. You need to take charge before something embarrassing happens.

You grab her by the bottoms of her thighs and you easily lift the one hundred odd pounds of her. You flip her onto her back, and you settle between her open legs. She doesn't stop you, and the green light has you eager to kiss her again. You can feel the warm skin of her inner thighs through your pants, and you feel the affect it's having on your body. But you know she feels it more. You move in to kiss her again, and she lets her arms wrap around your neck before dragging her fingers into your hair.

You kiss her harder than she kissed you, and you feel your pants tighten around your erection. She smells like something warm and spicy, and you want to bury your face in her neck. You want to grind into her, but you aren't sure if that is a part of making out. Santana wraps her legs around your waist at the thought and you feel them cross at the ankle. You pull back, and you look down at the vixen beneath you and you breathe. You're pressing against private parts of her, and you aren't sure your body will withstand the feeling if she moves her hips against yours. She bites her lip and rolls you expertly over, and she's kissing you from her perch on top of your lap.

When she rocks against you, your bed moves. The pressure and throb emitting from your penis is maddening, and you're sure this will be the death of you. You don't know what to do with your hands, so you settle them on the top of her waist. She chuckles through a kiss before bringing her hand to yours and she pushes it further down. You squeeze her bottom with first your right hand, and your left follows suit and you grip the firm meat of her ass.

Kissing her is different than kissing Quinn. It's no less consuming... but there is something missing from her kisses that you can't quite identify. She's grinding her hips into yours, and you feel an unmistakable dampness over the crotch of your pants. You feel yourself pulse, and you squeeze her ass again to stop your impending orgasm. You push her to the side of you without breaking your kiss, and she throws an incredibly smooth leg over your hip.

This kisses are sloppy, but fierce, and her hand slips under your shirt and teases the flat of your stomach. She runs her amazingly soft hands in circles right above the hem of your pants, and before you can register where her hand will go, your fly is unzipped. She pulls her lips from your mouth, and she clenches your earlobe between two perfectly straight teeth— and sucks. You lose your breath somewhere on its way out, and you nearly lose it when the same hand switches direction and slips deftly into your underwear.

All thoughts cease at the feeling of her palm against your bare skin. You've never gone this far with anyone and you don't know if you can hold out if she doesn't stop. She lets your ear go before kissing the space underneath it and she squeezes your girth in her hand. The noise that rings loud in your bedroom doesn't sound like yours... and when she strokes the full length of you, you are sure none of the words flying out of your mouth make sense.

A major part of you wants her to get you off. But somewhere else alarm bells are ringing. If Santana decides she wants to go further, you aren't sure your brain will work enough to tell her no. She's sucking on your neck and your hands are gripping the sheets and you can't stop your eyes from fluttering as her hands move from the base to the tip of you. You are tenting your trousers completely, and Santana's hands are moving purposely over you. Her lips meet yours and you respond reflexively, and you pull her ponytail loose, your right hand tangling in her hair as she kisses you deeper.

Santana's hand delves deeper and she's cupping your testicles in her hand. They're sensitive, and Santana knows what she's doing because you are really close to soiling your pants. You let the 'ahhhh' rumble from your gut, but you pull away when she moves to pull down your pants. You can't let it go further so you sit up against the headboard and you pull her hands away from your now embarrassingly tight pants. You grab one of the pillows from your bed to better cover yourself, and you try not to let the blush creep into your cheeks.

"I, um... I don't do things like this with girls that I am not dating, Santana. And while that was... amazing, I'm not sure we should go any further."

Santana rolls her eyes and trails a finger around lip gloss that smudged while they were kissing. She stands up and pulls her hair back into her ponytail before twirling her Cheerios skirt back into the correct position. She walks over to your desk and she leans against it.

"So, why haven't you asked me out, Berry? You're kind of hot underneath all that argyle."

It's your turn to roll your eyes.

"Yea right, ask you out and then what? Wait for all of Lima Heights Adjacent to come to school to slushy me?"

Santana quirks her eyebrow.

"Well, Berry, maybe you should stop being such a pussy and just ask me out. You never know, it might improve your rep. And I wouldn't mind something warm beneath me to help me sleep."

She grabs her bag and checks her eyebrows in your mirror before sauntering over to your bedroom door. It takes you a moment to come out of the shock you were in, but you finally snap out of it enough to grasp her implications.

"Hey Santana?"

She throws you a look over her shoulder.

"Yea Berry?"

"Will you go out with me?"

She shrugs.

"Yea, whatever. But I'll have to raid your closet and get rid of all the dork in there. I'll call you later, Rich."

It's the first time she's ever said your first name. You can't help but like how it sounds falling from her slightly kiss plumped lips, and you think that Santana Lopez might be just what you need to get over Quinn Fabray.


	5. Chapter 5

**Warnings: **Sanrich SMUT, Faberry heavy petting. Any mistakes are mine.

**Author's Note**: This was supposed to be a few pages (you know, like six or seven). I took what I had plotted for two chapters and put it in a giant update to tide some of you guys over (I get so much feedback for this story… it's crazy! I didn't think people would enjoy it as much as they are! Thank you all for that.). I would also like to say that I will no longer apologize for the smut I produce. I've finally come to terms with the fact that some of my stories are ONLY an outlet for my smut-tastic imagination. This is one of those stories. I had to get into Richard's head in this chapter… because, being a female I have no clue what a pubescent young man thinks about/feels about his first sexual encounters.

And to the reviewer [Username: huh] who hopes that I don't venture into the redundancies of other BoyBerry fic: This was supposed to be a quick oneshot smut fic. I have been toying with this universe and I find that I like it. There will be similarities to the show, because I am trying to weave canon themes. And I mentioned in my first author's note, that this would be more smut than plot (prompter's request). The plot that I am using… I'm using because I'm giving extra to a fic that would have been a one shot had I not put effort into it. So, hopefully you can appreciate the next chapter; if you're still reading.

Please Review.

Chapter Five

You and Santana have been dating for three weeks. Well, dating is a loose term. You've been exclusively making out during the three weeks you've been together—aside from the occasional conversation over BreadstiX to go boxes, you know almost nothing important about the Cheerio. Often when you bring up conversation, her hands or mouth distract you from your probing, and by the time you walk her to her car, you've forgotten all about your foray into getting to know Santana on a personal level. Not that you're complaining. In the three weeks you've been going out, you've been close to losing your virginity to her twice. It's hard saying no to the girl, but you reason each time a hand wrangles down your slacks that until you know her well enough... you won't go that far (after all, your mothers raised a gentleman).

When you started dating, you expected things to change. You expected Santana to dress you and wear you on her arm like an accessory. An accessory that didn't get slushied or tossed into dumpsters or flushed down toilets. It seemed like another perk of your public relationship; protection. You didn't expect too much, but you hoped that being with one of the sexiest girls at school would give you an iota of respect from your fellow classmates. You've been dating Santana Lopez for three weeks; and **nothing** has changed.

After going through your closet, Santana deemed your wardrobe a lost cause, only managing to find something to cover up "all that crazy". When she found your vegan friendly leather jacket, all she told you to do was skip the sweaters and leave your top buttons unbuttoned on your oxfords. When she picked you up for school the following day, she ruffled your hair and linked arms with you before walking through the parking lot.

The students of McKinely didn't know how to take what people were calling "Sanrich". You told Santana before making hallway rounds that you definitely preferred Pezberry, but she shushed you before opening her locker. The crowds parted, as usual, and for a few select moments, you felt invincible. People stared at you for reasons that didn't involve slushies or bullying or utter humiliation. People whispered about you and sent you dirty looks; because somehow a _loser_ like you snagged a girl like Santana Lopez.

It was a glorious feeling, at first. And you wanted nothing more than to see Quinn. You wanted her to see you with Santana and you wanted her to realize what she missed out on. You needed to see her face. But Quinn was nowhere to be found. Kissing Santana goodbye, you made your way to your locker before being pushed back into reality. The aggressor was Puck, of course, and Matt followed up beside him by throwing a kiwi slushy in your face. You'd had your five minutes of high school fame... maybe you set your sights too high, because **nothing** changed.

Unless you were on Santana's arm, you were fair game. The crowds only parted when she had you by the hand. Once she let go, you were on your own. Puck seemed to hate you even more than the week before. On top of everything else, you've gained a new enemy. Matt Rutherford, who you always thought was a timid and quiet guy, has been following you constantly with slushies. You vaguely wondered how the jocks could afford so many of them. Finn, under Puck's orders, took to tripping you when you're holding things (like your lunch, or your books, or sheet music). The only person you actually wanted to notice your new relationship was Quinn; but it seemed like she wasn't interested.

You didn't know why you wanted her to know. Well, you knew why. You wanted to watch her reaction to it. She hasn't spoken to you since your last assignment, and her collected demeanor annoyed you. You wanted a reaction; any reaction. You didn't need her acceptance, or her jealousy; you just needed to know how seeing you with Santana would make her feel. Because you hated that she brushed off what happened between you. It was petty, really, that you wanted to rub her face in what she was missing... but no matter how heated you and Santana had become, no matter how close you were to all the way with her, Quinn always crossed your mind in time to stop you.

But thoughts of Quinn weren't stopping you now. Santana was on top of you, her shirt long ago abandoned, the lacy bra she was wearing pretty against her bronzed skin. It was late afternoon, and the sunset cast beautiful hues over her flawless skin. She was sitting on top of you, her pleated skirt fanned over your hip, both of her knees pressed into the sides of your thighs. Her hair is down. Your hands tangle in it, and you are sitting up against your headboard as she kisses you. Your mothers were out for the evening, and Santana showed up on your doorstep as if she felt the unsupervised house ding onto her radar. Quinn had been on your brain but Santana was doing a wonderful job distracting you.

You've been dating Santana for three weeks. No matter how much time you spend around her, you are still clueless about her. When you first started dating, she told you that she needed something warm underneath her to sleep. You scoffed at her, and started a rant about how you weren't a toy. She laughed at you, before distracting you with kisses below your jawline. Santana manages to somehow stop your thought process. Another thing that has you curious is the chemistry between you. Santana seems to bring out your most basic of instincts. You never really talk about anything of importance, but once her lips touch any part of you, you quickly forget the questions you want to ask her. She takes every opportunity you have alone to engage in physical intimacy, and you can't say that you aren't enjoying it.

You have seen Santana in many stages of partial undress. But you have never been naked with the girl. You aren't ready to be _that_ vulnerable with her. Santana almost never lets you touch her. At least, not the way you want to. You've done everything from making out to dry humping, and your resolve is crumbling. You want to go further, with her...but you're sure that you aren't ready to go all the way; at least not with Santana.

You want to know what it feels like; sex. Before Santana, it was easier to contain yourself. Self- control was one of your more stellar traits. But since starting this relationship, you think about sex constantly. Your mind tends to stop you from putting Santana's face in your fantasies... and often it's Quinn you think of whenever you do think about it. You like Santana. When she isn't giving you back handed compliments or sitting on your lap, distracting you, she is actually nice to be around. She sings along to songs with you in her car, and she spends a lot of time in your bedroom for you not to at least consider her a friend. You've come to accept her for all she is… and all she isn't. You wish you could get to know Santana on a deeper level, but you have to settle with getting to know what Santana looks like naked.

And Santana was almost there now; _**naked**_. She stands to let her skirt fall to the floor before straddling your lap again. Her panties match her bra and you save the image of her clad only in her underwear for later use. She sits back on your lap and she kisses you, her thighs squeezing around yours as she gets comfortable on top of you. You wanted to unclasp her bra. You wanted to see what was under the dainty lace. You wanted to palm your hands over her perfection and you wanted to squeeze. Santana was kissing your bare chest. She wrangled it off you on the stumble up the stairs when you let her in earlier, seemingly turned on after Cheerios' practice. Her nails were raking down your sides and she was grinding slowly on top of your erection. The room was greying as night time peaked outside the window; but Santana was still stunning in the dim light. Every time you tried to speak, she put a finger to your lips.

Santana scoots down your thighs to unzip your pants and you want to stop her. She's touched you before; squeezed, stroked and caressed you... but she's never _seen you_. You're somewhat nervous of revealing yourself to her... in fear of ridicule from the queen of low blows. You're also afraid to let her pull you from your underwear, because you are home alone with her for the night, and you're not sure you can say no to her if she chose to ask permission.

She yanks your trousers down with a tug, and she gets them off of you without pulling down your underwear. When she reaches for the elastic band of your boxer briefs, your throat catches and your hands grab quickly at her wrists. She looks at you with mild annoyance before licking her lips and sitting back.

"Are we really going to have this conversation right now? I'm almost naked in your lap and you're about to give me a speech on abstinence... really, Rich? Really?"

You sigh. You want to. You really, really want to. You let go of her hands and rub your face. You barely know Santana. You want romance and significance; you need your first time to be special. You barely want her to see you naked... let alone contemplate actually being _inside_ of her.

"I... we just can't have sex... I'm not ready yet, for that and everything... I don't even have condoms. Maybe we could try something else?"

Santana leans seductively forward in your lap and kisses you full on the mouth. She smiles a sinister smile before resting fully on your half hard erection.

"Like what?"

You hate that she can be so freely enthusiastic when all you feel is afraid. Santana is sexy and confident and good at what she does. You're new to it all and insecure and you don't know how to deal with all the overwhelming sensations. No matter how much your logic is fighting it... your body still wants her. You like touching her and kissing her and doing all the things you do together. And you can't fight that.

"Well, I went to Miss Pilsbury last week, and she gave me these nifty pamphlets. One was called, 'What to do when you're not ready to do IT'-"

Santana's scoff and sequential laughter deters your comment. You're mildly hurt that she would laugh in your face, and you deflate, but you guess it's because most guys in their right mind wouldn't turn down the opportunity to have sex with her. She stops laughing when she realizes that you haven't continued talking. The quiet lasts a few seconds before you hear a curt "Okay" from Santana. There is a pang of remorse in her voice, before she leans forward to softly kiss you. She goes slowly at first, small pecks and gentle nips, and she puts her hands on your shoulders as she kisses you; her thumbs drawing indiscernible patterns on your bare skin before leading up the side of your neck and grazing the fine hair at the base of your hairline.

Santana begins rocking her hips over yours, dragging herself over you in a delicious friction. It doesn't take long for your kisses to quicken, and your hands roam over her flesh as she grinds above you. Suddenly it's too hot and you can't stop rocking against her. You're kissing her harder, both of your arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her into you as you rest your head on her shoulder. You can feel her breasts pressing into you and her hips as she lifts and strokes the length of you. You feel yourself dangerously close to climaxing just as Santana pulls away.

You let out a huff of air as she wedges a knee between your thighs. You let your head loll on your neck as she adjusts. The only light coming into the room now is from the moon. She wiggles until space forms, and she slides down and settles her face over the bulge in your underwear. She trails a finger slowly over the length of you before dragging it slowly back to the waistband. The same finger hooks into the elastic and tugs it down.

You hold your breath and you hope that the darkness of your bedroom does you justice.

You spring from the suffocating material and rest heavily against your stomach. You're still holding your breath. You don't know what Santana is thinking. You wonder if she's seen better, bigger, thicker ones than yours. You catch yourself before you spiral into your own insecurities and you wait for Santana to do... whatever she was about to.

She hums from the back of her throat. She grips you at the base and bites the side of her lip before stroking. Your breath hitches at the sight of her, and you feel the beginnings of your arousal drip damply down your shaft. Santana smirks, and before you can begin to misinterpret the action, she has the head of your penis in her mouth.

All thought stops as your eyes snap shut.

Your hands instantly fist in the sheets on your bed, and it's hard for you to completely process how amazing Santana's mouth feels wrapped around you. Santana sucks in and pushes as much of you down her throat as she can manage, before sliding back up your length and letting you fall out of her mouth with an audible pop. She strokes you with her hand, before swallowing you and starting a rhythm. You are afraid to look down. You don't know if you can handle the image of her with parts of you in her mouth without exploding.

You let your hands untangle from your bedspread before finding Santana's hair behind your closed eyelids. You squeeze her hair at the scalp and she moans throatily around a mouthful of you. It nearly undoes you. The vibrations tickle up your shaft and you try your best not to buck against her mouth. The wet noises of her moving tongue and the squish the back of her throat makes when you are in to the hilt were only making you _harder_.

Your mouth is slack and your eyes are shut tight against the marvelous friction her mouth is making against you. Somewhere in your mind, you wonder if Quinn would be as good at this as Santana is. You automatically feel guilty for thinking of her while you are stuffed halfway down Santana's throat. Flashes of Quinn's bobbing head and raspy voice crowd your thoughts as Santana wraps a hand around the parts her mouth can't reach. You try to stop the thoughts of Quinn by opening your eyes.

The scene laid on your lap wrecks your perspective. All you can think of is how far in Santana's mouth you must be. Santana doesn't seem to breathe as she continues; and you're lost with the reality of the situation. You force Quinn from your mind, and you start pushing upward into Santana's mouth involuntarily.

"Uuughnnn. Yea, Sant- oh, gosh yes, right there... keep going."

Santana smirks around you before pulling you completely from her mouth. The slurping noise isn't lost to your perfect hearing, and you save the noise for the alone time you are sure you'll be having more often now that you know what _this_ feels like. Santana puts her face beside your wet erection, her smile bright enough to fight the dark. She fist pumps you a few times before speaking.

"You like that, huh?"

You nod idiotically, hoping that she will put you back in her mouth. She swallows you almost to the base before gagging slightly; the flutter from the back of her throat momentarily paralyzes you. Your toes curl and your back tenses, and you feel a swell in your ego that your size was anything choke worthy. She begins a frantic pace, slurping and squeezing and tickling. You don't know how you lasted this long, because your feet are burning and you have to stop from slamming into her mouth. She pulls you out and you whine, but you sharply inhale when her tongue touches your testicles.

"Ahhhh yes... that feels so good..."

She drags her tongue to the tip of you before hollowing her checks and sucking hard from head to base. You tangle your hands in her hair again, and you follow the motion on edge.

"Oh my gosh... I might, Santana maybe you should stop I'm going to finish in your- uggggh"

It's too late. You close your eyes and empty everything you have into her mouth as you orgasm, rocked by the sensation of someone else doing this to you...for you. When you open your eyes again, Santana swallows a gulp of you; and the sight alone has you aching to do it again. Santana scoots toward the top of the bed and leans against the headboard beside you.

"So, how was it?"

You have to calm your breaths before answering.

"It was... amazing... I'm sorry I um, in your mouth I mean- I didn't mean to."

"It's cool, it actually tastes… alright."

You're frighteningly flattered.

"Well, I take a well-balanced diet and good hygiene seriously."

The room grew quiet quickly. You tuck yourself back into your underwear before turning to Santana. She's still in her underwear, her legs crossed at the ankles. You want to return the favor. You want to be able to bring her to orgasm; she after all did just give you your first by another person. You are curious about what she looks like... down there. You want to touch her.

"May I... may I return the favor?"

Santana chuckles.

"No offense, Rich, but I rather not have you fumble over my privates. I'm good."

You face forward.

"Well... show me. Tell me what you like. I really want to be able to touch you too."

Santana looks shocked. Like she expected you to kick her out of your bed and never speak to her again. You feel bad if that was what she expected. You put your hand on top of hers before leaning over to kiss her. You don't know what to do, really. You keep kissing her, and try to move down the bed with your lips still attached to hers. You settle, and you pull her closer to you and let your hand drag along her sides. She moans into your mouth hen your hand drifts under the lace of her panties. You have goose bumps. Your heart quickens pace and you find your hands roaming freely over the side of her body. Your knees are touching, and your arm is drifting between her thigh and armpit.

You roll on top of her when the content sigh slips from her mouth. You kiss her again before sitting up, and you breathe shallowly before dragging her panties down her legs. You guide your hands up her impossibly smooth calves, and knead the soft muscles in her upper thighs. You rub the insides of her thighs, and she spreads them without you having to ask. And then you look.

The skin there looks fragile. She's neat, and it looks soft, and it smelled like something that made you want to inhale deeply. You rub your hands over the 'v' of her pelvis, and you barely graze your thumb over her slit. You've never seen one in real life; a vagina. You aren't sure if it's beautiful or if it's a natural instinct to want it; and you're only unsure because you can't look away. You realize that you don't know what to do. You want to do what she did for you. Santana was finding other things to stare at, and the awkward silence makes you think that she didn't let the other guys she's dated do this for her. You want to put your mouth on her… you wanted to _taste_ her. But, maybe she didn't know you that well to be _that_ vulnerable with you.

You take the alternative route, and put a thumb into your mouth. You wet the tip of it before putting it on top of what you assume is her clit. You silently thank your mothers for giving you the talk about sex. The position is awkward, and you pull away and lay beside her while she lay on her back. Her legs were open against your side, and your palm was flat against the space right beneath her navel. You're trembling as you kiss her, letting your hands drift lower until you feel the delicate skin of her.

You let your hand roam over her, and you stroke the silky skin under your palm before you cup her fully; the tips of your fingers brush something damp as Santana takes a sharp intake of breath when your palm rests against the protruding bundle of nerves. You get closer to her somehow, and you kiss her ear before you let a whisper claim the air between you.

"Tell me what to do... if I'm doing something wrong..."

She clears her throat but nods instead. She's staring at the ceiling, still in her bra and on her back. You kiss the side of her face, down to her shoulder and back to her neck before resting your head there, buried in the scent of her. You're nervous. You don't want to mess this up. Your hand is stroking down her slit, and she's really quiet, and you're so afraid that you could break such a delicate thing. You take a quiet, shaky breath before letting your middle finger slip all the way into her slit.

She's not wet. Well, there is a pleasant dampness that nestles there... but you assume that she's always like that. You want to work her up. It isn't fair that you can't gauge her arousal. The hand playing with her sex drags back up to her abs and you stop and pull yourself over top of her again. You begin to trail kisses down her neck, and her hands shoot to your hair when you graze her collarbone with an open mouthed kiss. You lean back, and you put your hand under the small of her back before lifting her towards you. You feel for a bra clasp, but you're lost until Santana breaks the quiet.

"Front clasp...it's in the front."

You let her fall back onto your bed and take the instruction as permission to take it off. Your hands are sweaty. You find the clasp in the middle of her lacy bra and you twist it until it falls away. You pull the material down her arms until her bra falls to the floor and you _look_ at her. Santana isn't shy. Not that she has anything to be shy about. Her breasts are perfect. You reach down and knead them softly, satisfied when Santana mewls and arches her back against you. They are round and perky and they fit inside your hands like they were made for you. You let your hands rub circles over them and you let your thumbs graze over her nipples.

They peak and pebble slightly. Your mouth is heavy with the anticipation of kissing them. So you do. You put one in your mouth and you swirl your tongue over it. It hardens, and Santana fists your hair when you nip it slightly. You continue with the other, letting your hands play and roam as you give attention to the very apparent erogenous zones. You're hard again, and you rock against the bed as you continue. Santana is gasping and moaning quietly. Like she doesn't want the room to hear that she's enjoying this.

You kiss the undersides of her breasts down to her navel and you flick your tongue over it before kissing her right above her pubic bone. You kiss down her left leg to the knee, and her body bucks when you let your tongue glide firmly against the back of it. You do the same to her right leg and admire how Santana's hands grip the sheets. You kiss back up to her neck, and finally back to her mouth. She kisses you back, all of a sudden eager to participate. Your erection is rubbing against her naked sex. You buck against her; it's the first time you've felt the urge to want to bury yourself inside of her.

When you lay beside her again, she is flushed. When you let your hand drift downward, she's moist. You kiss her lips before letting your middle finger circle her clit. You find a slow pattern, letting your finger brush over her lightly, before dipping your finger down to her opening and back up to repeat the process.

"Ooooh God, keep doing that babe."

The endearment throws you off, but you continue, dragging the wet that seemed to gather at her opening up to her clit. You are paying more attention to what your hand is doing than Santana's face. The room is dark and the only sounds are Santana's hitching breaths and the sticky sounds of your finger gliding across Santana's now wet vagina.

You glance at Santana's face. Her eyes are shut tight and her mouth is fighting between biting her lip and relaxing her clenched teeth. You let your finger linger at her opening before pressing in, and slowly you sheath your entire finger inside of her. You are greeted with squeezing muscles and an intense heat. Your left hand is trapped between you and Santana. You stroke yourself through your underwear, enamored with the girl writhing beside you.

Santana's legs spread wider, if possible, and you begin pumping your finger in and out of her. Her hips make contact when you push in, and Santana can no longer keep quiet.

"Fuck, two fingers, Rich, and go harder."

You comply quickly, and you let the palm of your hand rock over her clit each time you push all the way in. You lean over her to put a hard nipple in your mouth. You don't know how you're keeping pace, but you thank the adrenaline for pushing you through your cramping wrist. Santana's mantra of "Oh my God," and "mmmhmmm" has you light headed. She puts her hand over yours and presses your palm harder into her clit. Her insides are squeezing down over your fingers, and your mind goes automatically to think of what she would feel like around your penis. You feel yourself pulse, just as Santana begins mewling out unintelligible things.

Her hips lift off the bed and into your still moving fingers; which are now slick with wet. You press against her clit with the bottom of your palm and her body shoots from the bed, her legs closing around your hand as she tries to prevent her building climax.

"Oh my God I'm about to come... oh my God... you better not fucking stop."

She's shaking. She is trembling around your trapped hand. She pushes down on you and you move your hand into her again, trying your best to stroke the same way. She opens and closes her legs before taking a breath, and she lets you resume your movements. You put your thumb over her clit, and you stroke inside until her hips buck instinctively back against your hand. You feel the flutter of her inner muscles, and a force clenches your two fingers before it spasms erratically around them.

"Oh God, yes! _Brittany_... _**yes**_!"

You let her squeezing insides calm before looking up at her. Her eyes were still closed and her face relaxed. A grimace of panic flashed quickly over her features when you pulled your fingers from inside of her. She shoots from the bed in all her glory and starts grabbing her clothes from the floor. You sit there, stunned at the evidence she left on your fingers and somewhat confused as to why the Cheerio would scream her best friend's name during any sexual activity. You think to yourself that you must be hearing things... but Brittany sounds nothing like Richard.

By the time you snap out of it, the door to your room closes with a breeze of red and white. You're on your bed with the drying remnants of Santana Lopez on your hand; lost at what to do. Santana's car peeled out of the driveway by the time you wash your hands. You give it ten minutes before reaching for your cell phone.

_'Did I do something wrong? Are you okay?'_

You send the message with a worrying bite of your bottom lip. You have two mothers. Two gay mothers. If Santana was in love with Brittany, she could possibly need an ally. You feel stupid for letting her leave. Your phone chimes in your hand, and Santana's message simply reads, _'Yea, I'm good. Uh... thanks. I'll see you at school tomorrow.'_ You call her cell phone immediately after reading, only to hear the music playing as Santana's voicemail recording. You realize then, that you will deal with her gay panic at school tomorrow.

000 0000 000

She doesn't pick you up for school. She doesn't lead you from the parking lot like she has for three weeks and she ignores all the messages you've been sending her since this morning. You don't see her in the hallways and you even check her usual hangouts with no success. You are worried by the end of first period that you won't get to see her until after the weekend. When the bell buzzes, so does your phone, and Santana's name flashes on your screen. She tells you to meet her on the bleachers. In any other circumstance, you'd give her a lecture about the importance of perfect attendance, but you swallow the thought and make your way to the field.

She isn't there, so you send her a quick text and sit while a gym class lines up near the track. You hear her clear her throat from somewhere behind you, but you don't turn around.

"Look, Berry. What happened last night, it doesn't get out. Got it? Or so help me God I will-"

"The threats are unnecessary, Santana. I won't tell."

You hear her sigh of relief.

"Are you two... like together?"

Santana scoffs.

"Sex isn't dating."

"But we were dating... I would want to know if that was happening behind my back."

"Were? Are you seriously breaking up with _**me**_? Seriously, Rich?"

You rub your face in your hands. And you look over your shoulder at the Cheerio.

"I mean... you called out someone else's name while we... while you were having an orgasm, Santana. I think it's a big indicator that this relationship isn't working out."

Santana sighs again. This time it's an annoyed one.

"Look. I'm not gay, alright. Guys suck at getting me off. That's it. You just so happened to be the first that didn't burn the skin off my crotch okay, fairy dust? Don't be so pretentious. You really don't know me well enough to make that assumption."

You sigh. You know anything you say about the matter would fall on deaf ears. You don't want to push her into talking about something she wasn't ready to talk about.

"You're right. I don't know you well enough. But I tried to get to know you. I like you a lot, Santana. But... we shouldn't date if we are just thinking about other people when we are together. It's not fair to either of us. I would love it if we could be friends."

You don't hear her stand up until she's right beside you.

"We were friends before?"

She almost walks off, but your hand goes out to her elbow before she steps down.

"Look. I get the whole reputation thing. I get it. You can tell everyone that you dumped me because I was boring... you can go back to throwing slushies in my face and tripping me in the hallways. But I'm keeping your secret-"

"There is no secret! You think your major crush on Q is a secret, Berry? Everybody in glee already knows! And for you information, having sex and dating are two different things, remember that."

She tries to walk off, but you don't let go of her arm.

"You didn't let me finish. I'm keeping your secret, because I understand what it's like to have something about you get out and ruin you. Something you have no control over...something you shouldn't be tortured about. I really like you, Santana. And even if we aren't dating, I'm here if you need me. If you ever need me... okay?"

Santana snatches her arm away from yours before smoothing out her freshly starched Cheerios skirt. She looks around and looks back up at you before deflating.

"Nothing's going to change. I won't acknowledge you in public. I won't invite you to parties. We can do this... friend thing. But Rich if you try to talk all that emotional bullshit and offer support, I swear I will have you slushied ten times every single day."

You smile. Santana wasn't as scary as she once was to you. You pull her close to you and you hug her without asking. She scowls when she leans back, but then she looks at you in a way that resembled appreciation. You feel like it's the only thanks you'll ever get from her.

"Hey S! Sue needs us in her office asap!"

Santana nods and looks back at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. She waves goodbye before jogging down to meet with Quinn, who glares at you with the anger of a thousand daggers. You smirk as she walks away, proud with yourself for finally gauging _some_ kind of reaction from the girl. You make your way to class, and you hope that you haven't missed anything important.

The bell rings for second period fifteen minutes after you've gotten to class. Your AP science class comes next. People have miraculously left you alone today. News of the end of Sanrich hadn't yet spread through the halls of McKinely, and you're grateful Santana is saving the news for another day. You're somewhat disappointed that what happened the night before wouldn't happen again; but you feel better knowing that you made a friend...your first real one at this school. You're sitting alone at the front of the row, dreading the moment Quinn would come and sit beside you. She ignored you the entire time you and Santana dated; and it's worse than anything her minions could have done to you.

You expected more slushies and swirlies and more harassment. But Quinn had ignored you since your last assignment no matter what you said or did. You wonder if she felt guilty for cheating on Puck. You felt a bit guilty after kissing her, knowing that she belonged to someone else. But you knew how much of a jerk Puckerman was, and that quelled your anxiety over the matter. In Quinn's absence, you've only wanted her more. Today was the first time she actually seemed upset over your now ex-girlfriend. You'd be lying if her small lapse in judgment didn't give you a bit of hope.

There was nothing you could really do to get her to talk to you. You couldn't speak to her in public without Puck threatening your life. You could never get her alone, and no matter how many times you said hello to her, or tried to pass notes, she would ignore you or send them back. You've never wanted anyone more than you want her.

Quinn Fabray walked into the class right before the late bell sounded. She sat beside you with an indignant huff, before pulling out her notebook. She looked upset, and you had to catch yourself from scribbling down a question to her in your open binder. Class went on as usual, before your teacher pulled out assignment sheets for the weekend. It's an experiment sheet. You sigh over the weekend homework, and your stomach clenches when you see the partner name written at the bottom of the sheet.

You guess Quinn had to talk to you now since you were partnered for a high percentage assignment... especially when her perfect GPA was on the line.

000 0000 000

You are in your room. You're in your bedroom with Quinn Fabray and she is sitting on your bed. If this were a fantasy, she'd seductively remove her clothing and lay before you; ready to be devoured. But this isn't a fantasy, and the blonde is scowling with her arms crossed stiffly across her chest. You watched Quinn argue over the partnered assignment after class on Friday. Your teacher denied her request to work alone, and she pulled you from the classroom with her before shoving you towards a locker. She scoffed at you and told you that she refused to give up her weekend, and she'd be there to do the assignment on Sunday.

And Sunday was finally here. You had a mixture of anxiety and enthusiasm bubbling in your stomach. Quinn was sitting stoically on your bed, trying her best not to speak to you more than necessary. You've decided that you love seeing her out of her Cheerios outfits... and you were almost tempted to tell her how pretty she looked today in her blue dress and grey cardigan. Your assignment was on a timer, and the room was thick with the quiet. Surprisingly, Quinn broke it first.

"So... you and Santana finally broke up, huh? I wouldn't have guessed her for your... type."

You arch your eyebrow at her. She looks like she's struggling with herself; like she just broke her resolve but she knew she couldn't go back. She straightens her shoulders and crosses her legs.

"What's that mean? What do you think my type is, then?"

Quinn smirks.

"I just thought you'd be into more... wholesome girls. You know, girls with better morals... girls that say no more often than they say yes."

You're slightly offended. More for Santana than yourself.

"Isn't Santana one of your best friends? Shouldn't you not... talk about her behind her back?"

Quinn shrugs before pulling idly on her fingers.

"I call Santana a slut to her face, actually- Santana calls herself a slut. It's a fact. I just thought you wouldn't date whoever asked you first. You seem like a guy with standards."

You feel the anger boiling in your chest.

"I'll have you know that Santana was a wonderful girlfriend to me. I find it disrespectful that you sit here and put her down in front of me. She's still my friend, Quinn, and I would appreciate it if you kept the insults to a minimum."

Quinn laughed. It reminded you of the Quinn you knew before all this happened; the mean one.

"Looks like I hit a nerve, Berry. You think she's your friend now? That's cute."

You hate how easily she can garner reaction from you. You want to stay calm, but it gets harder as she continues.

"...You think you'll be best buddies? Santana only cares about Santana. That's how it always was and how it will always be. Good to know her taking your vcard has you so loyal. Whatever happened to romance? Whatever happened to it being magical and special, huh?"

She quirks her eyebrow. It's your turn to laugh now. You could see through her tearing down Santana act. She was _jealous_.

"What makes you think I gave her anything? Santana and I never had sex. I didn't need to get into her pants to see that she a great girl-"

Quinn stands up. It frightens you how much authority she can command with a simple action. Her hands go to her hips as she walks up to you, the motion too quick for you to back away.

"Oh whatever, Richard! That's all guys ever want. It's all you ever want until you finally get it, and then you want it from someone else!"

"Don't compare me to Puck! I am not him! Did you give him your virginity, Quinn? Probably not right, I'm sure he would've bragged to all his football buddies in your celibacy meeting."

It's the first time you've raised your voice in anger. You almost immediately regret it. You step away from her. Realization hits you and you see it; hurt. Maybe Quinn wasn't jealous. The anger that gathered dissipates quickly, and you walk toward her with the intention of reaching out for her. She pulls away and her arms cross right as you speak.

"Did... did you lose your virginity to Puck? Did he do anything to-"

Quinn's shoulders drop dramatically.

"No. But, but you're right. He tried again and when I told him I wasn't ready... he told me that he didn't know why he was waiting. That he could get any girl he wanted. A prettier, skinnier girl who'd put out."

"I'm sorry, Quinn, that was rude of me and I'm sorry that Puck-"

She straightens her posture again.

"No. You're right. I don't know why I keep taking him back, really."

"So... you're still with him?"

She shrugs.

"He... he apologized. I just told him to leave. I don't know what to do."

She looks at you and you fall into her eyes. You hate Puck. You hate yourself more for keeping his secret. If Quinn knew... Puck wouldn't stand a chance. But neither would you. Quinn is teary eyed beside you. You don't know how someone like her could be with someone like Puck. You don't understand how she can let him treat her that way. You let your finger reach out to brush stray strands of hair from her face.

"He doesn't deserve you, Quinn. And he shouldn't treat you that way. No means no, no matter how much he thinks he deserves it. I would never pressure you to..."

You let the sentence die on your lips. It wasn't the time. The Machiavellian part of you wants to do whatever it takes; the rest of you realizes that Quinn needs a friend right now, not another boy trying to get her to change her mind.

"It's okay to want to wait. It's okay to not be ready. And if Puck decides that he can't wait for you... then let him find some mildly attractive girl who puts out. I doubt anyone he can find would be prettier than you. You're so much more than how he treats you, Quinn."

Quinn lets out a laugh and wipes the corner of her eye as a tear falls. When she looks at you, her red eyes are shining, a melancholy smile playing at her lips. The room is quiet. You and she are staring at each other, lost for words. All you can think of is how you want to kiss her again. She leans into you and you stay still, not sure if you should meet her halfway. Your eyes shut before she makes contact, and you love the surprise of feeling her lips against yours again. You let your hand caress her cheek as she deepens the kiss, and you don't hesitate to let it climb to her hairline and over the downy hair on her scalp.

When she pulls away from you, she only backs away enough to stare you in the eye. She bites the corner of her mouth before her eyes make a quick beeline to your lips. When your eyes meet, it feels like Quinn can see you naked with all your clothes on. She holds the gaze for a few everlasting seconds before speaking.

"_How do you do that to me?"_

It comes out almost inaudibly, and you feel the imprint of the question dust softly across your bottom lip before she leans in to kiss you again, her hand dragging into your hair and pulling; the other tugging possessively at your ear as she presses fully against you. You've been chasing this feeling since the first time you experienced it. Kissing Quinn made you feel like you were alive. Your nerves were dancing on amplifiers, and the noise made your skin vibrate with this beautiful feeling. Quinn's kisses felt like happiness. You kissed her back, letting your thumb thrum patterns over her cheeks. You could kiss her forever.

She pulls you down to your bed, and you let your hand rest at her waist, the other cradling both your heads as you resume kissing. She smelled so good, and you were excited to go to bed with the smell of her on your sheets. You kissed the space right below her ear on her jaw, and she tilted toward you without thought. You let your tongue dance on her skin and you picked a path down her graceful neck to find the place her pulse beat against. You kissed it lightly, and dived in right after to suck the spot. Quinn's hands shot immediately to your waist, her fingertips gripping your belt; all the blood from your brain drains, and you're lightheaded with sensation.

"_Rich."_

The way she says it makes your hips buck. You kiss back up to her mouth, tempted with the thought of going further. Quinn seems to hate the contact, and rolls on top of you. Every part of her body feels perfect against yours. You wrap your hand around her hips and you squeeze her closer to you. She kisses down your neck and bites a patch of exposed skin. Her dress pools around you, and you feel so much of her bare skin through the thin material of your khakis. She's pressed fully against you. You can't hide the growing bulge forming, but Quinn seems distracted with leaving a hickey on your neck. You feel something against the crotch of your pants, and you realize the warm space grinding down on top of you is damp enough to feel. Quinn kisses back to your mouth, slipping her tongue over your lip before sucking on the bottom one. She puts your hands on her hips, and she growls. She growls right in your ear and you involuntarily rock her on your lap.

"_Oh my gosh…"_

She whispers the words and the 'O' shape stays on her lips; she feels it. She feels your erection and she bites her lip before jumping off of you. You sit up and cross your arms awkwardly over the noticeable bump in your pants. She's straightens her dress before staring all the way into you.

"We can't… this can't keep happening. I—I think I should go now."

She tries to fix her hair before grabbing her book bag. You want to chase after her; but you would rather not waddle after the blonde with a stiff one. You hear the front door close and you fall backwards on your bed. You were hard, you had homework to do, and your sheets smell like her.

000 0000 000

You got full credits on your science project. You emailed Quinn the pictures you took of their specimen, and she did her half of the project from her own bed. School was over and you were tired. So much had happened over the last few days; you decided to treat yourself to a new record. The record store was one of your favorite places. The old vinyl smell and boundless library of good music soothed your soul. It was crowded, most of the high school crowd milled through the shelves. You were skimming the musical autobiography section. A Lionel Richie book pushed forward and fell to the floor beside you, and the space it fell from was now occupied by a set of piercing blue eyes.

"Mind holding that for me?"

The voice was definitely feminine. The eyes disappeared as you picked up the book. You saw her shoes first. They were leather strapped boots, loose around her calves and stopping mid-shin with a thick metal buckle. Your eyes traveled up her body in slow motion. Her ripped jeans showed patches of evenly soft skin, her stone washed jean jacket gripped her form fittingly. She was a wearing a Wicked t-shirt, and her pretty chestnut hair fell in waves down her back. Time seemed to speed up, and you caught up with the words that were coming out of her mouth.

"Thank you!" She grabbed the book from your hands before you could hand it to her.

"… I tend to browse the autobiography section here for lifestyle tips. It's wonderful practice for when I'll be famous."

You seem to forget how to speak, and you shake your head before remembering your manners.

"Lifestyle tips; exactly. I'm Richard, Richard Berry. And you are?"

She giggled, her eyes shined and her dimples seemed to dimple deeper. You were half awestruck and half smitten. She held out her hand.

"You don't know? Well, I'm Jessica St. James. I'm sure it's nice to meet me."

**End of Chapter 5**


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: This one was odd to write. Lots of dialogue. I like playing with the relationships, and tying it all back to the show. I hope you can see the canon I weaved in this one. Also, I was talking to my beta, Lauren, and she got me thinking about what these gender swapped characters would look like. If you want to see what I came up with go to my tumblr, www(dot)j-rease(dot)tumblr(dot)com and check under the "Seeing Stars" tag.

Also, thank you to all of you who have reviewed. I am glad you guys like what I'm writing so far. There is a bit more, and some pretty smutty and dramatic turns I have planned, hope you are all with me still.

Chapter Six

You find it shocking how quickly you and Quinn can fall into this pattern. How easily you can brush away the little formalities of her relationship only to pretend afterward that nothing scandalous has happened between you. You wonder too often if she is torn over her infidelity...or if she regrets the kisses you've shared on occasion. You even question if she would be guilty enough to admit her perfidy to Puck. You have been trying hard to play her game these last few days, acting as you were before- two people on opposite ends of the social spectrum; two people who would never cross paths willingly. You have wanted to confront her about what happened on Sunday, but she has been conveniently attached to Puck's arm, like she knows you know better than to approach her in a public forum. And so you let her set the pace; and you waited patiently for the right time to say something to her.

You honestly hate that she has so much control. You hate so much that it's her that you like... because if you could, you would have chosen someone more obtainable. You also hate how easily she has the upper hand, and how unhealthy this could become if you didn't set boundaries. There is a growing voice in your head that whines; and it tells you all the things you don't want to hear about Quinn-all of the things you aren't quite ready to admit to yourself yet. She used you, again. And you let her because her tongue against yours was a fix for an addiction you hadn't been aware you suffered from. And no matter how many times you've tried to quell the urge to kiss her; to have her, you always seem to feign whenever you are alone with her.

It has to stop.

You don't want to be the boy who carries her burden. You don't want to be so fixated on her that you let yourself be treated that way. You deserve better than to be her dirty secret. You don't want to be her secret anymore. That is the reason you need to talk to her, you need her to tell you what she wants. All you know right now is that the attraction is mutual. But you hate that she jumps back into denial the moment your lips part. You don't want to like her as much as you do... and you need to know now if this had the potential to be anything other than cheating. Especially since you've spent the last few days getting to know Jessica St. James.

You didn't know who she was... at first. The name should have set off alarms in your head because you'd been seeing it for such a long time. Show choir. Jessica was the Queen of show choir. Every time she opened her gorgeous little mouth, nothing but perfection fell from it. It's hard staying level headed around the girl. She oozes a confidence that only comes with her age; she was two years older than you- a woman. You were smitten with her, you couldn't deny it. And with the signals she's been throwing you, you might even have a chance. But before you aimed your sights for the competition, you needed to clear the air between you and Quinn Fabray.

When you walk into the AP science classroom, it's dark. The blinds are shut and all of the overhead lights have been turned off. It's cool in the room, and the teacher's desk has been pushed all the way to the back. You make your way to your usual seat in the front row, and you see the audio visual equipment tucked in the corner. You feel like the fates are on your side, because movie day leaves a big opportunity for you to talk with Quinn. Students trickle in, frowns disappearing when they realize they can slack off for one period. Quinn is one of the last to slide into her seat beside you, and she pretends not to pay attention to you like she usually does.

The movie is about some obscure mineral, and you watch the first fifteen minutes of it before finally giving in and scribbling a note on the unused side of your binder.

_"I haven't stopped thinking about you since Sunday..." _

You let your thought trail on the page before bumping elbows with Quinn. You barely catch the glance she takes at your notebook, but you notice the eye roll that follows as she replies on the unused page on her own notebook.

_"Just forget about it, Berry. I wasn't in a clear state of mind. You just happen to always be there whenever I'm vulnerable. I'm starting to think that you are somehow rigging all this."_

It's your turn to roll your eyes. **This game**. You don't want to participate anymore. She has you on a string like a puppet, yanking on your emotions like they aren't real. Every time you think some progress has been made, the old Quinn rears her nasty head. Your pen scribbles loudly on your notebook, an outsider would assume that you were taking copious notes.

_"Why can't you admit that you like me? I'm not afraid to say that I like you... because I do. And you keep doing things to make me feel like the feeling is mutual. Why are you so in denial?"_

Quinn pretends to play with her ponytail to peek at your paper. Something flashes across her face. It seems like uncertainty, until she bites her bottom lip with determination and replies to your question.

_"Look- I have a boyfriend. Despite how many situations I find myself in with you, it's not going to keep happening. I've built something for myself here, and I'm not going to sacrifice my rep for a date to loserville. So let's pretend that this never happened." _

It sucks that this is what it's come to: reputation. You hate that it's something as insignificant as what others think about her. At the same time, it fuels you. It's something small. The way she phrases it makes you think that Puck isn't as big a factor as you once guessed.

_"Do you even care about Puck? Are you saying you only stay because he's popular? Why put yourself through that? And I've dated Santana. I was cool enough for her. What's the difference?" _

You catch yourself begging. You can't even fathom why you would want to... but something has you wanting her so badly. She reads your note and looks away, seemingly distracting herself while she gathers her thoughts. You sit, waiting, wondering if this could ever play out in your favor. She squares her shoulders, and scribbles down her answer quickly; like she was pulling off a band aid.

_"You're who you are, and I am who I am. We don't mingle. Puck is my boyfriend. He has been for a while and he will be as long as I allow it. We are the prom king and queen type... and you're the loser they drench in pig's blood at prom. Stop chasing pipe dreams."_

You can imagine her saying it out loud, with venom in bite and everything that could literally make you cry. You rip the page off your notebook and you crumble it in the palm of your hand. You stand up, and you stuff it in your pocket. You gather your books at the protests of your teacher. You guess the game is over, you guess now would be a great time to move on.

000 0000 000

The lanes in this store were unfamiliar to you. You drove to the city limits and wandered into a convenience store near the highway, hoping that no one would see you make the purchase you were about to. Of course, that wasn't the only reason you were trying not to be noticed; Santana was here with you. She hadn't wanted people to start rumors about the two of you, so she offered to drive you somewhere discreet. You find it odd that you are still friends, sometimes. You and Santana were like salt and sugar... but still you mixed with her too often, without thought of the odd combination. She was beside you, strolling in silence as you finally approached the item you have been combing the aisles for.

"I don't know where to start..."

Santana scoffs beside you, amused that you have no clue what to do...which to choose.

"Well... I can only tell you how the outsides feel. But you should eliminate the ones you can't fit...and the materials you're allergic to. And no lamb skin... they're weird and— Why are you buying condoms again? I'm pretty sure Quinn's still the virgin Mary."

She's picking up boxes and setting them back down. You are fingering a box of Lifestyles, trying to guess if they would be too tight. You have two gay mothers. They've talked to you about sex, and respect, and love... but you didn't feel comfortable asking them about condoms. You weren't even sure that you were actually going to use them. It's the first time in your life you have wanted to know your biological father. You shake your head before focusing on Santana again.

"I'm not buying these for Quinn," she looks at you skeptically, "I just want to be... prepared."

"Yea, I call bull shit. Come on Rich, you would have been prepared when we were dating if that's the case."

You sigh loudly, putting the box down and picking up another. The neon Durex package makes you uncomfortable, so you put that down too and turn fully to Santana.

"Fine. I've been seeing someone. Sort of."

Santana's face lights up with scandal.

"You don't have the balls to mess with Q behind Puck's back..._right_?"

Despite your budding friendship, Santana doesn't know anything that has happened between you and Quinn. She knows that there is a mutual... something there- but nothing else. They've been friends longer than you have, and if Quinn hasn't confided in her the details of your liaisons, you've decided that you wouldn't either.

You have been dating Jessica St. James for a week shy of a month. No one knew. Not even Santana. Not even Quinn. You'd wanted to rub it in her face after the last conversation you had with the blonde. But you didn't. She's been glued to Puck more than usual, and you- you've been happily distracted. It feels surreal, that you have someone like Jessica to talk to. You like hanging out with her, and going to concerts with her and, you love singing with her. It's nice to have someone around as passionate about Broadway as you are. It's nice to have someone **understand** you. You have officially been a couple for about a week. And you were nervous about it getting out. Everyone in New Directions hated your guts. And you knew that if it got out that you were dating Jessica St. James, your team's biggest rival, you'd paint a bigger bulls eye on your back.

Santana's tapping foot signifies her growing impatience, the gold wrapper condoms her left hand seemingly forgotten as she waits for you to answer.

"If I tell you... you have to promise not to tell anybody else."

"I can _totally_ keep a secret."

There is this excitement in Santana's face that tells you that maybe you should keep your relationship to yourself. Secrets don't seem like her strong suit. But she's done nothing to humiliate you since you broke up, and you feel like you can trust her just a little. You throw caution to the wind because honestly, Santana is the only friend you have besides Jess... and you really want to tell someone.

"Okay."

You look at her skeptically before picking up a Trojan box that is eye level with you. You take a deep breath and you blurt it all out.

"I've been dating Jessica St. James for a few weeks and we just made it official."

You wince. It's funny how much you've learned about Santana now that you aren't intimately involved anymore. You know that she watches marathons of Sweet Valley High and Saved By the Bell (you've watched them with her on occasion). Her car is messier than her bedroom- you find it hilarious that you hadn't seen her bedroom until your budding friendship began. You found out one night that Santana cuddles affectionately when there's no one there to call her on it. She tends to get drunk and call you, telling you how amazing she thinks Brittany is, before trying to convince you to show up for a "booty call". You know that she knows West Side Story by heart; and that she'd nail Maria if she had the chance. You know enough about Santana now to expect her to go off on you about dating the enemy. Santana loves winning... and she was as important to Glee club as you were now.

She drops the box of condoms.

"No."

It's calm, and it knocks you off kilter.

"What?"

"Look, Berry. I'm only going to say this once; and if you ever bring this up in public, I'll deny it. But I like glee club. It's the best part of my day, okay? Don't go messing that up. And I don't know this Jessica chick, but make sure you can trust her before you start buying condoms, okay?"

"Yes, of course. Jessica isn't like that... she doesn't even ask about glee or anything."

You smile offhandedly. You sense the bit of concern in Santana's voice. She dips down to pick up the box of condoms she threw on the floor before smirking at you.

"Don't look at me like that, Rich. And fyi, I was kind of rooting for you and Quinn."

You're interested.

"Why, has she been talking about me? What does she say?"

"No, she doesn't talk about you. Quinn doesn't tell me her secrets. She likes when I catch her in the act and call her on her shit. We keep it civil because it's easier for us to keep an eye on each other. But her pretty loud brooding has me questioning how long you two have been messing around."

Santana picks up two different brands of condoms from the shelf, before snatching the Trojans you still have in your hand.

"We have not been messing around-"

"Please don't. I know _something_ happened. I just don't know _what_ yet. Quinn's acting weird. And she only overdoes it when she's trying to convince herself of something. And you get this weird, kicked puppy dog look every time she walks into the room. Like she just got you neutered and she refuses to hand you back your testicles. So I'm pretty sure you two messed around."

You let out a sigh, following Santana to the counter to pay for your items. The clerk ignores your conversation and rings you up, looking between you like he didn't believe you knew a girl like Santana.

"So why are you rooting for us? Isn't Puck a friend of yours too?"

You head for the door as Santana laughs, pulling a bottle of water out of the bag you hadn't seen her pay for (or even pick up) before taking a swig.

"Nope. I mean, he was my first... Britt's too. But he's a douche. Other than sex, he has no use. And I'm rooting for you because I know Puck is up to no good. Besides, you're growing on me, Berry. So dish... what happened with you and Q?"

You debate for a moment. You aren't sure you should, but it's not like you had any allegiance to Quinn. You open Santana's door for her and you run around the car to get inside before continuing.

"Well... we kissed a few times. When Puckerman started pressuring her, she'd confide in me. I would try to make her feel better. That's basically it. The last time we talked she told me I wasn't cool enough to date her and, I just let it go. She plays these crazy mind games. It's always politics and pretending with her. She said it came down to reputation. I even made a point that I dated you. I'm cool enough for that. But she said it's not the same..."

"Well, I guess that's kind of true. It is different. We are more friends than enemies... but we are a trinity for a reason. We have to balance each other out. Quinn is the figurehead. She, like, has to be perfect and everything everybody else wants to be. Britt is good at deflection. She diverts people from all the true power plays going down. I fucks shit up. I can be a bitch or be a slut and get away with it because I owns it. Without me, there would be no drama... nothing interesting would ever happen. I dated you because I have enough pull... Quinn can't slip up because there is always someone out there trying to take her spot. Sucks to be on top. Popularity is cutthroat, Rich... and Quinn is way too paranoid to throw away her entire reputation on a weird fairylike boy with freakishly long eyelashes and no game."

You sigh, tugging on your seatbelt and letting your eyes wander at the changing scenery.

"Well…at the least—she could do so much better than _Puck_."

"True dat. But she isn't going to walk away from the coolest guy in school. I don't think he could do anything wrong at this point. Sucks that he might be her first. Like… ugh at least me and Britts didn't know how much of a man whore he was. She blatantly walked into that relationship knowing he'd get away with murder."

"Ha! You're tellin' me."

Santana's head quirks toward you without taking her eyes of the road. She gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. There was a smile on her lips when she spoke, and you didn't have to look over to know it was there.

"What do you know about Puck?"

You roll your eyes.

"I know enough. I know too much, actually."

Santana is staring intently at the road in front of her. You expect her to push you for information.

"What if I already know what you know, Berry?"

You think about it for a moment.

"Then I don't have to say it. Maybe you should tell Quinn."

Santana laughed out loud. You feel like she'd tilt her head back to cackle maniacally if she weren't driving.

"Who says Quinn doesn't know? Politics and pretending, Rich—you said it yourself. And we are a trinity. Once something is off…we all know. We knew something was up with Britt."

It stumps you momentarily. It made sense. How easy it was for Quinn to cheat, how unhappy she was knowing everything Puck did behind her back. You hate yourself for justifying Quinn's behavior… but there is this renewed spark igniting inside you. You still had a chance. Puck couldn't pin Quinn finding out about Brittany's baby—she already knew. Santana's voice snaps you out of your frantic thoughts.

"Too bad you're with that Jessica chick."

You stare out the window, trying to stop the dread from knotting your stomach. The ride was quiet for a while, and you didn't feel like turning on the radio to hear some odd coincidental reminder of being in one of the most frustrating situations in your life.

"And honestly, Rich… I don't think you should be scared of Puck. He puts up this front like he'd murder you—but I've seen him hang out with his Nana and—well. I really think you should start standing up for yourself. Now get out of my car."

Santana's car came to a slow stop in front of your house. You shook the haze from your mind and you got out, reaching in through the window to grab your bag. You pull out of the window and lean against the frame, watching Santana as she fidgeted in indifference.

"Don't forget to try your condoms on, Berry—kills the mood when you have to go through four boxes for the right fit. Now get off my car, your argyle is defacing my paintjob."

You smile at her, tapping the side of the car before stepping away from the curb.

"We both know the rudeness is a defense mechanism, Santana. And remember, this stays between us."

You shake the bag in your hand for good measure.

"Whatever."

Santana peeled off, and you got to your front door right after she turned off your block. Sometimes you really didn't understand why you and Santana were friends. But you were.

000 0000 000

It happened after a Wiggles concert. You'd spent the day with Jessica, laughing and holding hands and feeling _normal _for the first time in your life. You went to a fair and played cheesy carnival games and you talked about things you don't really have a chance to talk about with anyone else. Like Broadway and music and the _**history**_ of Broadway and music. Your enthusiasm was met with eager interest and you found yourself drawn to the older girl. _The older girl who liked you and had no qualms about being with you_. It felt nice. You felt like your head was above the clouds. You didn't hesitate to invite her in when she pulled up to your empty house. Your mothers were gone and you didn't want this date to end so you asked her inside and she accepted. You sang with her at the piano in the family room, and you showed her into the basement where your mothers kept the shrine of you collected in file cabinets and water proofed boxes. She even seemed interested in those things. Pictures of you from competitions and certificates and trophies from talent shows and dance recitals. And then she asked to see your room.

You barely opened the door before she kissed you, and you walked backwards to your bed and she fell on top of you, her body crashing gracefully against yours while her mouth moved meticulously; brushing over every nerve ending on your lips before rolling away and tugging you with her. She squeezes her thighs around your hips as you settle your weight between her open legs, trying not to press fully against her. She kisses you again, her hot mouth feels nice against yours, and she kisses like she knows exactly what you like. She pulls away and looks up at you, her eyes dragging slowly to meet yours, her breath tickling your lips when she speaks.

"We should do it."

She says it right before she bites your bottom lip, and you almost agree because the feeling of her sucking has you momentarily stuck—your brain refuses to think for the few seconds she tugs on it before releasing it, and you have to shake your head before answering.

"Like… _it, it?"_

Jessica leans up to kiss you again, this time it's a modest peck against your sensitive bottom lip, before she sinisterly traces over her trail with the tip of her tongue. She smiles at you and falls back to the bed, like she knows she has you captivated, before speaking.

"Yea, haven't you done it?"

"No—have you?"

She looks at you suspiciously.

"Of course I have. It's no big deal—"

You lean away from her, stretching out beside her—off of her. You run your hand through your hair as she sits up on her elbows, confused at the change in atmosphere.

"It's a big deal to me. I can't just… jump into that. I want it to mean something."

She sits up, towering over you. She twists the faux leather cuffs on her wrist, and tucks some of her bed tousled hair behind her ears.

"It wouldn't mean something with me, Richard?"

It's not what you meant. But you already feel where this conversation could lead, and you try your best to detour it before it gets catastrophic. Quinn flashes in your mind subliminally. You put her in this same situation and marvel internally at how she would understand your morals. Better than Jessica seems to.

"That's not what I meant. I just. I don't know you… yet. I like you. But, you're the captain of another show choir. I—I am having a hard time trusting that you like me for me. I'd be betraying my team if I slept with you. And I'd be betraying myself because I'm not ready for that yet."

Jessica straightens her back and leans back until she is eye level with you. She lets her hand rest on your chest before dragging it down to just above your belly button, her hand grips onto your belt as her lips meet yours for another kiss. This kiss has intention. She is moving against your mouth and moaning a bit from the back of her throat. She lets her lips peck appreciatively along your jaw, and your eyes flutter closed as she kisses the flesh of your earlobe. Her hand is moving in a determinative pace, her palm flat against your abdomen as it inches into your pants and cups you. Your penis twitches against her warm hand, and you feel her breath before you hear her voice vibrate in your ear canal.

"Maybe you are ready but you're just a bit nervous… let me change your mind."

Jessica squeezes your girth and you have to compose yourself. You have to get control of the situation before you stop thinking with the head on your shoulders. She strokes your length and kisses your neck before purring directly into your flesh. The action trembles across your skin and you are really close to doing what your body wants you to.

You sit up abruptly, Jessica's arm bending awkwardly behind you before you pull it out. This doesn't feel right. And she really shouldn't be trying to change your mind. No means no.

"You should go…"

She scoffs audibly, and sits up, adjusting her rising t-shirt before scooting to the edge of the bed.

"Are you really denying sex? With me?"

"If you can't respect that, Jessica, you don't respect me. I think you should go."

She looks at you incredulously, switching her weight from foot to foot.

"Fine. Whatever."

You walk her to the door, and you wait for her car to pull off before closing it. You guess you wouldn't be using those condoms after it.

000 0000 000

The first thing you discovered on Tuesday was that Santana can't keep a secret. The only reason you knew was because Mercedes Jones slushied you. She was a bigger diva than you were, but she'd never gone out of her way to torture you. Mercedes had walked off with Katherine, yelling the word 'Traitor' over her shoulder as you wiped away the ice from your eyelashes. Madonna was playing over the loud speakers, Stew Sylvester walking through the halls with his bullhorn, pushing kids and yelling about "Madge Worship Week". You made your way to the bathroom and made quick work of salvaging your outfit. You hadn't seen Puck or Dana Karofsky yet, and you wanted to save your change of clothes for your post slushy hours.

Glee was your next period, and the room was empty. You stood in front of the piano, waiting for the rest of the class to find their way soon. You were looking over Madonna sheet music, Mr. Schuester unoriginally announced the Madonna assignment for the week moments after Mr. Sylvester. Sneakered feet made noise against the linoleum behind you, and a flash of red and white caught in your peripheral. You looked up from your sheet music, and focused on Quinn, who's eyebrow was quirked upward at you. She sat her notebooks on the piano.

"So, Jessica St. James?"

You don't even blame Santana. You figure Quinn would have found out sooner or later, and you can't be mad at your friend for bursting at the seams. And for some reason you feel like this is more of a helping hand than a stab in the back.

"I won't deny it. Why does it matter to you?"

She lets her eyebrow fall, her face instantly casting downward as she scoffs.

"It matters to this team. If this relationship fails—like it probably will, she'll go running to her team with all the secrets you told her about New Directions—"

"It won't fail, and I care about my team, Quinn, despite what you think. And Jessica isn't like that. She doesn't talk about Vocal Adrenaline and I don't talk about Glee. And for someone who doesn't want to have anything to do with me you're mighty concerned with my love life."

Quinn laughs, and her fingertips reaching daintily to her hips, her strong jaw slanted sideways at you.

"Love life? Yea right. I'm sure she's just using you to weaken the team. She's going to break your heart and we'll be ineligible to perform. Stop being so gullible—"

"Stop being so jealous! I know we aren't friends, but stop getting upset when I'm not interested in your anymore."

Quinn straightened before balling her fists at her sides. And then she actually growled. It would be amusing if you weren't caught in the ferocity of it. You square your shoulders.

"I'm not jealous, Richard. Puck and I are fine, thank you very much."

You laugh out loud.

"And Jessica and I are just fine. You have nothing to worry about."

Quinn doesn't break eye contact with you. Instead, she picks up her notebooks and pulls them to her chest before facing her back to you.

"Whatever, Berry. When she breaks your heart don't come running to me."

"That was never my M.O., Quinn. Don't seek me out when you realize that Puck isn't who you really want."

She stops. Pivoting on her heel and setting her books back on the piano with a solid thwack. You are sure somewhere Brenda the piano lady is cringing.

"If I wanted you, Berry, you would be mine already. I'll be civil as long as you keep your little girlfriend in line. I don't like losing, so I will let that last comment slide. Whatever happened is over now, and I won't keep letting you get away saying things like that to me."

"What, the truth? Why do you keep avoiding me? You go different ways in the hall and every time you see me you act like Puck is the most fascinating person on the planet. But as soon as you get wind that I'm dating someone, you make a point to come find me in an empty room and try to bully me into believing that Jessica doesn't care about me. My relationship won't get in the way. Trust me."

You close your own binder and walk away from her. You hear the choke in her throat when you take a seat in the front row and ignore her presence. So what you and Jessica weren't really fine. So what you haven't talked to her since you walked her to the door on Friday. So what you were telling little white lies. You were tired of teetering on Quinn's ever changing mood. Before Quinn can respond, glee members began trickling in. The room fills before Schuester gets there, and the room is loud with a buzz. You busy yourself with your Madonna tribute and you don't notice anything until Mr. Schuester claps his hands together.

"Listen up you guys, I have an announcement."

You look up, and the first thing you notice is Jessica, holding a folder in her hands, her arms over the strap of her messenger bag. You're confused.

"Jessica has transferred from Carmel. She is our new club member, officially."

"This is ridiculous Mr. Schue, she's a spy, I would know."

Santana says it without looking up from filing her nails. You guess Santana is still rooting for you and Quinn.

"Yea Mr. Schue this isn't fair. I was already fighting for solos, now I'm never going to sing."

Katherine Hummel crossed her arms over her chest before scoffing.

"It's all legit you guys. Jessica moved in with her aunt in our district. And everyone who wanted to get into this club got in. That's how it's always been. Jessica is qualified, and it would be unfair of us not to accept her into our group."

You feel Quinn's eyes on the back of your head. You don't even have to turn around to feel the glare that is burning into the back of your skull. You speak up.

"Jessica, why are you doing this?"

She smiles at you. It's a slow, easy smile. And it seems so genuine and personal that you can't help but swoon a little.

"I did a lot of thinking, Rich, and you were right. I have to respect your decisions. And I knew I needed to prove myself to you. And I'm willing to give up a fourth national title, just to be with you. To show you how much I really care. And besides, I'm a star, you guys could learn a lot from me."

It's a bold gesture. It's something no one has ever done for you before. You stand up, and you hug her in front of glee, not caring that Quinn is grinding her teeth from her seat next to Santana. You were done playing games with Quinn Fabray. She didn't deserve you.

End of chapter Six.

A/N: Faberry endgame :0) Working on the next chapter now… hope you all like what's coming next.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** This will be the last update of Seeing Stars to my Fanfictiondotnet page. I will upload the next chapters exclusively to my site. The site address can be found on my profile.

All mistakes are mine. I got tired of editing.

Please Review.

Chapter Seven

You find yourself in this position more often than you'd like to admit, lately. Your face is flushed, your skin is tinged hues of crimson as you grip the edges of your bathroom sink. Your arms flex, and relax when you lift your head up to stare at your own reflection, rubbing the back of your neck to ease the tension coiling at the very top of your spine. You stare downward, acknowledging your erection before turning away—conflicted. You have found yourself in this same position multiple times this month. It seems that every time you and Jessica are alone, it results in physical contact. You aren't complaining…per se, but being left in constant state of arousal is taking its toll on your resolve to remain a virgin.

Your relationship with Jessica has progressed vigorously since she first transferred to McKinely a month ago. And while you two aren't doing anything nearly as lascivious as the things you and Santana have done— you find yourself second guessing your decision to wait a lot more often. It feels wonderful to walk the halls with a girl who is proud to have you. You're peeling past layers of Broadway and show tunes and you are connecting with Jessica in a new way. There are still times, however, when you see something in her eyes that you can only assume is regret. You don't want her to resent you. For leaving behind a winning team, her school, her friends. Sometimes when she kisses you and pulls away…you feel your heart sink with devastation. That's when she usually leaves; that's when she kisses you goodbye and leaves your trousers tented.

Tonight was one of those nights.

You were sitting on the couch, a movie on that you couldn't pay attention to because Jessica nibbled lightly on your ear, her hand extremely close to the growing bulge in your pants. Your mothers were gone; their extended weekend left you alone in the house. You didn't think tonight would be the night you used the condoms you had in your bed side table, but when Jessica squeezed your thigh— you kept the option open; just in case. Her nibbling progressed to kisses along your jawline, and she wound up hooking her finger under your chin to turn you to face her. She waited for you to open your eyes before she straddled your thighs, a hungry kiss stealing your breath as she settled over your lap.

She hiked up her jean skirt, a frayed blue ash wash she had worn despite the cold. Her smile was slow and sly as she moved above you, her hips undulating in ways that told you that she knew exactly what she was doing. You let your head lull against the back of the couch and you watched her gyrate against you, her hips dragging backwards up your length and snapping forward so that you pressed against her intimately. Her mouth met yours again, and the tip of her tongue teased trails across your bottom lip. She leaned away soon after, to grab the edge of her shirt to tug it over her head. With a flick of her wrist her bra fell forward, and she let it fall from her arms before she brought your unsteady hands to cup her without barriers.

When your hand fell over her pebbled flesh you kneaded lightly, marveling in the way Jessica's back arched and her hands gripped blindly at your knees. She began grinding against you again, the friction torture against your hard on, her eyes linked with yours without wavering—her plump bottom lip nestled beneath her teeth. Suddenly you wanted more. You wanted to feel her skin against yours. You wanted her on top of you this way… you wanted to know what she felt like on the _inside_. Jessica was wanton on your lap, mewling through clenched teeth and grunting with what shaky breath she had left. You thrust up against her when she pushed down, and you feel the buildup inside of you swell. You pulled your hand away from her breast before letting the tips of your fingers grip the expanse of skin above where her skirt had bunched and you add pressure to her strokes.

There was a heat building between you, and you felt the damp slick of sweat against your brow. You had to slow down Jessica's movement to unbutton your pants. You wanted to feel the warm and wet parts of her sex as close to yours it could be through fabric. _This meant something._ **This counted**. You cared about Jessica and being with her this way was special. This might not have been traditional intercourse… but this solidified so much between you. You tugged your pants down far enough to keep her on your lap, and you pulled her down by her jaw to kiss her while she found a new rhythm. Her hips were heavy over yours, and she began shuddering as she stroked down over your erection, the damp fabric of her panties hot against the thin layer of cotton that covered your semi- exposed shaft.

You felt the velvet swell of her sex stroking over every inch of your length. You linked eyes with her boldly, and you see her staring back at you- pupils blown and completely captivated.

"Jessica, I think I want to…I think I'm ready?"

Your voice sounds chalky to your own ears, like you haven't used it in a while. The question comes out shaky, and you didn't realize how nerve wracking this all was. Jessica stilled completely, flushed cheeks and slack jawed before you. You watch her, searching your face for some reaction other than shock. You watched her steel her features before rolling off you, pulling down her skirt and putting on her bra. You watched Jessica gather herself before turning to you.

"I'm…not prepared. I respect your decision to wait, Rich… but maybe we can do this at a time when I am more… fastidiously groomed."

She kissed you goodnight before fixing her shirt, and left you there on the couch…needy.

And you found yourself here, debating whether to relieve yourself or take a cold shower. You hate indulging in masturbation too much, especially when you know that the more you do it, the more often you need to do it to keep your body behaved. Your erection wasn't going away, and Jessica wasn't coming back. Had you been single, you would have taken Santana up on her no strings attached propositions— but you aren't, so you take off your shirt, settle on your bed and you turn off the lamp on your bedside table.

You don't need help getting things started. You don't watch pornography; your imagination usually suffices. With a fast tug, you are out of your pants, your penis is rock hard and ready for attention. When you grip around the base, a strangled sound climbs up your throat and you recognize it as relief— you need this. Images of Jessica invade your thoughts, and they flash before your closed eyes before you can stop them. You're bombarded with memories of her grinding on top of you— her perfect breasts bouncing in front of you. You stroke languidly, letting your mind carry on the fantasy as you pump and squeeze your shaft, slightly pinching the head as you recall the noises Jessica was emitting earlier.

You take a shaky breath and speed up— you know this won't last long if you keep this pace. You slow down teasingly before you let your penis rest on your stomach to reach over to gather a bit of lotion in your hand. You hiss when the cool cream meets your heated flesh. You close your eyes again and try to get back into the fantasy of you and your girlfriend…but it wanders quickly to another face. This fantasy seems to need no permission from you as it continues unbridled. Quinn's arched eyebrow is the first thing you notice. You see yourself from outside of your body, and you watch yourself kiss the blonde, your hand threading through strands of her hair.

When Quinn moans in your fantasy, your hands quicken. Your eyes are still squeezed shut, and your hand is making an obscene slapping noise as you stroke. You imagine her climbing on top of you, her flowing skirt cascading over your thighs as she seductively unbuttons her shirt. She bites her lip before her shirt pools open and you want so badly just to reach out and touch her perfect breasts…to kiss them. The thought alone has your hips bucking uncontrollably. Nothing in this fantasy should have you this close to losing it, but you shudder into your climax when fantasy Quinn reaches down to squeeze you through your pants.

You think about her tiny hand wrapping around you, you think of her hand squeezing and stroking your length. You think of her grinding against you that way and before you can stop yourself, you are crashing against your pillows, toes pointed as you add pressure— your orgasm spilling from you with a long groan. Your chest is heaving by the time you clean up, your cheeks red from embarrassment, your mind clouded with confusion.

You've been ignoring Quinn Fabray since Jessica transferred. You've tried not to let your mind linger on the blonde. You have avoided her in the halls, and your teachers have luckily stopped their sadistic practices of pairing you together. You've done everything to keep from mentally betraying your girlfriend…but it's obviously not working. You hate having almost everything you've ever wanted; but still wanting the one thing you can't have.

000 000 000

You managed to avoid the glist for three class periods the following Monday. Had it not been for you walking up on Santana taking down another one from your locker, you probably would not have seen it at all. But you approached her just as she went to crumple it up in her hands, and you snatched it quickly from her before she could protest. With a quiet, "Suit yourself" she walked toward Brittany and left you to read it. You let your eyes glide from top to bottom.

_**The Glist. Who's Hot- Who's Not!**_

_**Quinn +45**_

_**Santana +43**_

_**Puck +38**_

_**Brittany +35**_

_**Jessica St. James +29**_

_**Finn +19**_

_**Mike +11**_

_**Matt +5**_

_**Richard -5**_

When you finish reading, you realize that you're furious. There were a few glee members who didn't even make the list, surely because they were "nobodies" on the social ladder and they didn't have significant others to deem them hot enough. You were furious for three reasons: Your girlfriend ranked higher than you. You managed to be negatively attractive to whoever ranked the list. You actually knew who wrote the list. You put your books into your locker before slamming it, and you made your way to where you knew she would be.

Mr. Sylvester maintained a strict practice schedule for the McKinely Titans. Consequently, the cheerleaders were forced to practice just as much. You marched onto the field during your lunch period, ignoring then many looks the Cheerios cast your way. You saw Brittany and Santana sitting on the bleachers, and you made your way to them before there was a crowd.

"I need a favor."

Talking to Santana in public was no longer a taboo. People often thought that the two of you still "hooked up". Of course, it hadn't changed anything else about your social status, but at least you knew you wouldn't get slushied for talking to her inside McKinely hallways. Santana rolled her eyes before turning to Brittany, letting her linked pinky uncurl from the blondes before motioning for you to follow her beneath the bleachers. It was the first time you'd been under there, and you blanched while walking past the cigarette smoke. Santana lead you to an unoccupied spot, away from the clouds of smoke that would damage your precious vocal chords.

"Okay Berry what's the favor?"

"Was it really necessary to bring me here?"

Santana rolled her eyes before crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yea it is. It's the perfect place not to be overheard. And I can't have people thinking I'm going soft- doing you favors and all. So spill."

You sigh, knowing that she's right before you continue.

"Look. I want to get back at Quinn. I know she made the glist... she could have left me out of it all together, but she likes to humiliate me publically like what went on between us didn't happen. I'm sick of her games and I need for her to know that I can fight back...but I'll need your help."

Santana squints at you, it's the same squint she usually uses right before an infamous Lima Heights Adjacent rant. She lets all the air out of her body before softening, uncrossing her arms before smirking.

"I'm in."

000 0000 000

You wanted to let them all know that even you could have a bad reputation. More importantly, you wanted Quinn to know that she wouldn't get away with how she treated you. You wish she'd just admit her jealousy and if nothing else, the two of you could call a truce. You'd cast three leading ladies for the song, and Santana had miraculously convinced Quinn to be one of them. You're sure that had something to do with Santana threatening the blonde about the glist so she'd agreed to it. Brittany had shown up with Santana wearing angel wings, Katherine Hummel in tow. You don't know how Santana managed that one, but Katherine did as she was told with Brittany, and the video had been shot in less than two hours.

Sitting down to watch it brought butterflies to your stomach. Quinn came on screen first, followed by Santana, and finally Jessica. The two blonde angels looked heavenly between scenes- and your artistic attempt at the bad reputation song seemed like a hit. When the video cut, you watched Quinn bite her lip angrily beside Puck... who looked like he was going to beat you to death the next chance he got. Santana was looking giddily between Jessica and Quinn waiting for their reactions. Jessica on the other hand, was gathering her things. The confused slow clapping calmed down, and Schuester stayed quiet like he knew you were about to get smacked.

"Richard, that was completely out of line. I'd appreciate it if you don't flaunt other girls in front of my face."

"Jessica, it wasn't like that I was just trying to-"

"You were just trying to make it seem like you had girls fighting over you. Do me a favor, don't call me for a while...I'll be on vacation."

Jessica walked away to the sounds of you calling her name. You wanted to follow her, to let her know that you didn't mean to intentionally hurt her feelings. She knew nothing of your history with Quinn, and you aren't sure if it would change things for the better if she did. Santana looked at you neutrally, shrugging her shoulder at the same time Quinn stood up. You expected her to walk up to you and slap you. You expected her to lose her cool and humiliate you in front of everyone. You needed for her to blow up at you so much that she let something slip. It didn't shock you when she walked by you, shaking her head with disapproval before slamming the choir room door behind her. You knew what she was thinking. Getting angry in front of everyone would only prove that Quinn _cared_.

Almost everyone else filed out soon after, and Puck bumped your shoulder with his roughly. You had stayed off his radar lately, but it seemed like that too would be changing.

If you had been keeping score, Quinn Fabray would be leading exponentially.

000 0000 000

Jessica hadn't contacted you for an entire week. You sent her messages, left her voicemails, emailed and facebooked her numerous times. You were growing desperate by the time Friday rolled around. You finally made up your mind to go to her house, and as you opened the door to leave, she stood there, about to knock.

"We need to talk, Richard."

Jessica had a bag in her hand. It was small and brown and it stood out to you for some reason. She walked away abruptly, getting into the red vintage mustang parked in front of your house. You took a breath before letting your door close, and followed idly behind her. When you sat in the passenger seat, Jessica turned on the car for heat, but didn't pull off. You panicked, and words tumbled out your mouth before you could stop them.

"Look, Jessica, I know how it looks and my intention wasn't to make it seem like I was some sort of...Casanova. I just saw that glist and I was tired of being the guy who's always made fun of. I'm not with either of those girls and I haven't been with either of them since we started dating. I sincerely apologize for-"

"Richard... I- I didn't come here for an apology. I'm not as angry with you as I was before. I came to talk to you about something really important."

Jessica began chewing her lip, pushing her hair behind her ears as she fidgeted in her seat. She took a deep breath before gripping her steering wheel.

"When I sought you out at the record store that day...it was intentional. I didn't expect to actually fall for you when all this started. And while I can say that my feelings are completely sincere and real...I've fallen for you under false pretenses."

It started raining. It seemed fitting for the mood. The skies darkened considerably and you stared at the windshield as you tried to make sense of what your girlfriend was saying.

"This is for you."

She hands you the small brown paper bag, letting her hand rest atop yours for a moment.

"Don't open it until I go. Richard, I'm really sorry about everything. When you told me you wanted to go all the way... I realized that things were getting serious. I realized that my guilt would ultimately lead up to this. I couldn't let you take such an important step with me...without you really understanding why we're together. I really do like you. I like you a lot more than I want to admit. But before you can make a decision about me, about us- I need for you to see what's inside that bag."

You didn't know why the kiss she pressed against your cheek felt so final. The rain was pouring down hard by the time you closed her car door to run into your house. The bag was damp when you set it on your mattress, wondering what inside it could bring an end to your relationship. When you finally opened it, the small cassette tape gave you no clues other than to listen. You put it in your radio, and the music that filled your ears was soon accompanied by a strong voice. You listened to the entire song, wondering still what false pretenses Jessica was referring to. The singing stopped and silence followed; the masculine voice reverberated around the room soon after, and you had to sit down at the first words that cut into your bedroom.

"Hey, buddy...it's your father here. I won't get the chance to meet you...and watch you grow, so I thought I should give you a little piece of me. Maybe one day we'll meet, maybe when you turn 18- and I can fill in all the blanks for you. Always know, you're a part of me. I think about the man you are turning out to be. Any son of mine has to be extraordinary."

The tape ended. And you couldn't get back up.

000 0000 000

The hand clap brought you out of your trance. Mr. Schue was trying to get everyone's attention. Your mind wouldn't wander from the tape your father had sent to you, or why Jessica had the tape at all. You could only come to the conclusion that he had sent her himself. It hurt that what you had with Jessica wasn't real. You couldn't bring yourself to call her to ask her any of the obvious questions you had. You spent the weekend exercising and being alone. You moped around the house when your mothers returned, and you moped down the halls of McKinely once you got to school. You felt lonelier than ever without Jessica there.

"Okay you guys, I have some good news and I have some bad news. The good news is that we will be doing Lady Gaga this week!"

There were high fives and hooting from somewhere behind you. You'd be enthused if your weekend hadn't gone the way it did.

"Alright simmer down. Now, the bad news."

Schuester took a deep breath before frowning.

"Jessica St. James has deflected back to Vocal Adrenaline."

You hear a few grunts and feel at least three sets of eyes roll somewhere behind you. You ignore most of the commotion.

"Quiet you guys! This isn't Richard's fault. Now, I don't think we have anything to worry about. We haven't been practicing sectionals routines yet, and whatever Jessica might say about our team is irrelevant. We are going to win this, without her."

You tuned out the rest of glee, and didn't realize it when Schue dismissed the room. Santana had stayed behind, plopping into the chair beside you before speaking.

"I can beat her up for you? Or cut her? The razor blades in my hair are totally untraceable-"

You smile. If only for the sentiment, and you sober when you turn to face Santana, this girl; your friend.

"That's completely unnecessary, Santana. However, I would love for you to accompany me on my mission to spy on our competition."

A sly smile spread quickly across Santana's cheeks.

"Maybe I can use the mighty power of the underboob."

You made arrangements to go to Carmel the following day, and Santana left you alone in a breeze of red and white. You decided to stay in the choir room, your mind too distracted to do homework. You tickle the keys on Brenda's piano, making sure not to leave fingerprints, and suffer the deadly glare of the silent pianist. You stare at the delicate sounds until the noise is interrupted by a cough behind you.

"Are you here to rub it in my face, Quinn?"

Quinn's lips quirk before she walks toward you. Her fingers pulled at her knuckles.

"Actually, I was coming to see if you were alright."

"Yea, sure you were-"

"I'm serious, Richard. Not having you around has been kind of..._frustrating_." Quinn's eyebrows rise simultaneously, like she isn't sure she wants to give you this type of information.

You are taken by the bout of honesty. Something in the pit of your stomach tells you to fight it; to not let her make you vulnerable. You turn away to seek composure in the ivory keys in front of you.

"For some reason I don't believe you."

Quinn scoffs.

"I deserve that. It's just- you were there for me when I felt like crap, and I feel like I owe you or something.

It's quiet for a few seconds, the noise of Quinn's shifting feet the only noise loud enough to register over your quickening heartbeat.

"Did you... did she break up with you?"

You shrug. You don't feel compelled to tell Quinn anything. She can't just march in and out of your life whenever she deemed fit.

"Shouldn't you be somewhere else? Being seen with me would definitely knock you down the glist."

"Low blow, Berry. Look... I don't like being ignored. Especially not by you. You can't open up avenues of communication and then just... _stop talking to me_."

You were instantly annoyed. You turned to face her.

"Excuse me? I can do as I please. Especially when it concerns you. I continuously extend branches of friendship and you continue to break them in half! You can't even be nice to me in public! You know what; I can't do this today, Quinn. I have too much going on-"

You walk away from the piano to grab your books. Quinn's footsteps echo behind yours and she reaches out her hand to grab your elbow.

"Rich, wait. Look...being a bitch is a coping mechanism. Do you see me treat any of my friends nicely? I'm _trying_. The fact that I'm here should say as much. I know we didn't leave off on good terms. I know what I said to you last was pretty cruel. I just... I panicked okay? I like you. I don't want to, and it makes everything complicated, but I do..."

You sat down in the first available chair. Your knees are weak. You're speechless. The words that came to your head didn't reach your mouth. You were staring up at Quinn, trying to gauge her sincerity.

"Why do you act like you hate me so much, then?"

It was the first thing you wanted to know. Quinn shrugged, looking down at her sneakers before answering.

"I don't hate you, Richard. I never have. You just did what I could never do..."

"And what's that?"

Quinn took the seat beside you. Her hands gripped firmly at the edges of the blue plastic chair. She sighed loudly before she spoke.

"Be myself. I was always a coward. You're Richard Berry no matter how hard it is, no matter who's watching. I just wanted to be popular. And every day I have to keep up appearances. I didn't know how hard it would be to stay popular. You made me realize that I don't have people who know me, who care about me. I'm... tired of being a bitch to you. Especially when you treat me better than my own boyfriend does."

"So what does this mean?"

"It means... we can see where it takes us? I want to try this reciprocity thing. I mean... don't talk to me in public and whatever you do, don't hug me... maybe we can sort of be friends?"

"How do I know this isn't some prank?"

Quinn rolled her eyes.

"You don't. But if it were, you could ignore me for the rest of your life. You're kind of lucky I'm even admitting this to you at all."

She held out her hand, and you grabbed it, shaking it before smiling yourself.

"Deal."

"So what happened? Between you and Jessica?"

You let go of her hand, letting your palm rest on top of the books in your lap. You'd forgotten so quickly your problems.

"I'm not sure. We were great, really. But then she gave me a tape and when I listened to it, it was my father. I don't know which feelings were real and which she had to make up in order for me trust her. I thought she liked me... but now I have doubts. Santana and I are going to scope out the competition tomorrow. Maybe my ...dad will be there as well. "

"I'll come too-"

"That's not necessary, Quinn-"

"I want to. I can't say I'm not happy you two broke up-"

Quinn's face flushed.

"-not that I'm implying that I wanted you to break up. I'll go if for nothing else...to make sure Jessica won't stoop low enough to steal our team secrets."

"Righhht..."

You felt yourself smiling as you said it. Just before Quinn's hand darted out to smack you on the shoulder.

Maybe this arrangement could work after all.

000 0000 000

He was the most handsome man you have seen in your life. It uplifted your spirits even higher that you looked just like him. You were elated when he opened his mouth to sing; disappointed in his show choir's already exemplary run through. It was a soothing, strong voice that rumbled from somewhere deep inside him. His name was Sheldon. Sheldon Corcoran. And he was your father. Santana, Quinn, and Brittany came along with you- hushing you in the back of the auditorium as you snuck in to eavesdrop on your competition. But you couldn't stop yourself from moving closer, mesmerized by the idea of having a father... a piece of yourself that had been so strange to you just a few weeks ago.

You hadn't meant to interrupt their practice, but you introduced yourself and he told the room to clear. You looked back to where Santana, Quinn and Brittany had been moments before, happy to see that the space was empty; they'd offered you privacy. You sat in front of him, your back facing where he sat a few rows behind you. He was waiting for you to say something, to do something.

"I can't help but appreciate the drama of all this...how long did you know?"

He cleared his throat.

"Invitationals... you were phenomenal. It was the first time I saw you sing; I knew it was you. How... how's life? I want to know so much about you. I want you to know so much about me. Have your mothers been good parents? What teams are you on? How are your grades? Tell me everything."

You take a deep breath, trying to arrange all the thoughts flying around your head. This was your father. The man tied genetically to you... the man who helped create you. Along with your mothers.

"My mothers are great. They-they love me more than anything. I used to be sad...that my family wasn't like other families. And my mothers would bring me water whenever I was down. After a while, I couldn't tell if I was just sad...or thirsty."

You turn to look at Sheldon, who's lost in thought at your memory. His lips are pulled into a thin line, and he's nodding like something has been confirmed in his head.

"Richard... this was a mistake. I shouldn't have. You shouldn't be here. I just... I expected to meet my son. The one I gave to two lovely women who wanted a family. But I've missed so much of your life. This was wrong, Richard. Hopefully...hopefully we can stay in touch."

He stood, scribbling something on a piece of paper before putting it in your hand. He left you there, alone inside Carmel's auditorium. You didn't know where the girls were...or if they cleared out, but you took a moment to let it all sink in. How quickly you had found and lost him. How odd it felt that before you hadn't needed him to be there. But now you wanted him to want you in his life more than anything. You squared your shoulders and you made your way to Santana's car.

You needed someone to talk to. And for some odd reason, you needed it to be Quinn.

000 0000 000

Lady Gaga week ended, and the next two weeks passed in a blur of Sectionals rehearsals, sulking and homework. You tried not to think of Sheldon, or Jessica, or the immense guilt you felt for lying to your mothers. Sheldon's phone number constantly burned a hole in your mind, and as a last resort, you tucked it away in an old playbill hung on your wall. You hadn't talked about it since it happened, even when Santana gave you the option to "let it all out" on the way home.

You wanted to talk to Quinn about it. You needed to know that she was serious about reciprocity and friendship. You wanted _**more**_ with her, but she was still with her Neanderthal boyfriend, and you didn't know if or when that would ever change. Nonetheless, she'd made a point not to insult you in the hallways, and she even went out of her way to tip you off about slushies (of course, she refused to stop them all together, but that was a conversation for another time). You and Quinn didn't spend time together outside of school yet, but things were progressing well enough to warrant speaking on the telephone.

You hated that you missed kissing her. You missed the smell of her hair, her, you missed her body fitting so daintily against yours. No matter how wrong it was...kissing Quinn made anything feel better. And there was nothing more you wanted at that moment—than to feel better. A stocky shoulder barreled into yours as you put the last of your books into your locker. It threw you off balance and you collided with metal right before giant hands fisted around your shirt collar. You closed your eyes for impact, wincing slightly until you felt nothing. Meaty hands pulled you away from your locker, and you peeked through one eye to see Puck dragging you to the usual bathroom.

He let you go by pushing you harshly into a wall. Your back thudded painfully against the tile as Puck got close enough to you to press his arm over your collar bone. You were instantly happy that Finn wasn't with him—you really didn't feel like getting your head stuffed into a toilet.

"Look, Fairy—too many people are talking about the bun in Brittany's oven. And if I find out you told Quinn, I am going to murder you as many times as I can before you stop feeling it."

"That doesn't make sense—"

Puck pushed you into the wall again, his face too close for comfort.

"Stay away from my girlfriend. Don't speak to her, don't look at her, don't even _think_ about her. I let you get away with putting her in your stupid little video—I'm fed up, dyke spawn. If I catch you breathing the same air as Quinn I'll—"

You were tired of being afraid of Puck. His threats were worn and he'd never actually hit you before. He had so many chances to get away with it and he took none of him.

"You'll what? _Hit me_? You'll steal my clothes and make me run to my locker naked? Flush my head down a few toilets? I don't care anymore. It's not like I don't go through it every day anyway. Why do you even care, Puck? I mean, you obviously cheated on her. You think I told her about Brittany? Maybe Brittany did; maybe Santana did. Maybe if you treated her with a bit more respect, you'd get past second base. I mean hey—even I got that far."

Puck pressed his arm into your chest, pressure building as he held you against the bathroom wall. You saw confusion flutter silently over his face. Next came, realization, and then anger. You could see his jaw flexing as he ground his teeth. You didn't think. You didn't think about what you were saying and Puck was going to kill you. You swallowed your anxiety. Somewhere in the back of your head, a mantra played. _The worst he could do is hit you. The worst he could do is hit you_. _**The worst he could do is hit you. **_

The bell rang.

His grip loosened as the bell rang, and you seized the moment to flee from his hold. You got to the door just as Puck realized he'd let you go and you ran. You didn't look back. If Puck landed one punch, you were sure he'd break your nose. By the time you stopped running, you'd made it to the choir room. You took a seat in front, and tried to catch your breath. You heard the chatter drift from down the hallway and you tuned into it as two of your teammates entered the choir room and took seats behind you.

"Brittany Peirce stole Puck from Quinn Fabray. I heard they were totally doing it behind her back. Brittany's like four months pregnant. I've never seen anyone get smacked as hard as Puck did."

Katherine Hummel practically squealed with delight as she responded to an equally ecstatic Mercedes Jones.

"What do you think Quinn will do?"

"There's nothing she can do, Kat. Her third in command slept with her boyfriend. And Quinn just let Brittany get away with it. It's all over the school."

"Oooo. Drama."

The two girls sitting behind you continued to gossip. Your mind wandered off momentarily, thinking of Quinn. You didn't know what to do really. You hadn't expected Quinn to be upset, since she'd known about Brittany and Puck and the baby already. You surmise it had something to do with reputation, and suddenly you can't wait until you can speak to her after glee practice. Especially since you needed to tell her that Puck knew, and would most likely murder you before school let out. You squared your shoulders as you heard said blonde, yelling at someone over the sounds of a crowded hallway.

"We're over. So leave me alone!"

Mercedes and Katherine sprinted over to the open doorway, the hallway suddenly quieted. You walked over slowly, making a point to keep from being seen by an angry Noah Puckerman.

"I can't do that babe. I just had a very interesting conversation with Gay Berry. Little weirdo said something about you and him getting to second base. Is it true?"

Quinn's eyes narrowed, and she miraculously found yours as you stood in the doorway of the choir room, unable to move. Puck followed her line of vision, smiling devilishly as he walked over to you. He pushed you toward Quinn, and you stumbled before righting yourself next to a fuming Quinn Fabray.

"So it true. You actually let this little dwarf touch you?"

Puck laughed.

"Looks like you picked your side, Q. It's whatever. It's not like there aren't dozens of other bangable chicks at this school. I was only holding out so I could pop your cherry anyway. But if you wanna give that to Berry here. Be my guest. Pretty sure no one else will touch you after that but hey—I'm sure you already knew that."

For some reason, you expected Quinn to deny everything. You expected her to keep dating Puck regardless of his past indiscretions. You expected her to choose her reputation, like she always did. You were standing there, your hands fisted in your pockets as Quinn steamed beside you, her cheeks burning, her mouth a thin line across her face. You watched Quinn quirk her head suddenly, as she walked up to Puck and circled around him slowly; predatorily.

Quinn stepped in front of Puck again, and you felt yourself wince as put her hands on her hips, ready for the feeling of rejection to settle in. Quinn spoke.

"We are finished, _Noah_. Because you got my best friend drunk on wine coolers and you got her pregnant. We are done because you suck as a boyfriend. And to answer your question, Puck—"

Quinn poked her finger into the center of Puck's chest.

"Yes, Rich has gotten farther than you ever will. And yes, I'd pick him way before I pick you. But that's because he's just better than you at everything…"

Quinn let her eyes trail down to Puck's groin.

"…and bigger too."

Quinn sidestepped and walked past Puck, and you watched as his hand reached out to grab at her elbow.

"You don't get to walk away from me."

He tugged her backwards, yanking her by her arm until she was standing in front of him again. Something inside you snapped. You grabbed Quinn's other hand and tugged her behind you. Puck's smirk grew as he realized that you were defending her. He had no right to ever put his hands on Quinn like that. You pulled your hand back, and brought it across his cheek as hard as you could. The smack sounded like it stung, and you feel the point of contact burn as you shake off the feeling of Puck's face from your knuckles. You rarely resort to violence, but you were tired of Puck. You were tired of him threatening you, you were tired of him treating Quinn like crap. Someone needed to stand up to him, even if that someone was you.

His head snapped back faster than you could process. The collective gasp registered around you, as the kids gathered around stared on, gearing up for the punishment you were likely to suffer. There were whispers crowding the hallway, snickers and jeers as Puck growled in front of you. The angry red welt your hand left against Puck's face was satisfying. But you were sure what was coming next wouldn't be.

Puck pulled back his arm to swing. You could swear you saw his fist travelling toward your face in slow motion.

It only took the one shot to knock you unconscious.

000 0000 000

Sorry for the cliffhanger. Next chapter finally gets to the "faberry" part of this story as well as o the "porn" part. Please review.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I wrote this with the intention of following thought processes. Tenses may be shifty but I hope the way I wrote it… enhances the experience. Please review. This will be the last full chapter. This was a fun prompt fill, and thanks everyone for staying with me. See Author's note at bottom after reading the fic (spoilers… well sort of, but not really).

Chapter 8

When you wake up, the world is a foggy haze of pain and confusion. You're on your back, sprawled out at the limbs in all directions, and your face hurts from the bottom of your brow to the top of your lip. Opening your eyes is hard, so you keep them closed and listen to the noises around you. There are multiple people inside the room, one you can tell is Santana, another sounds like the nurse. You peek from the eye that doesn't hurt as much and you see shadows on the other side of the closed curtain. There are two silhouettes moving behind the screen, whispering as hands move frantically between them. Santana is easily recognizable; she crosses her arms over her chest and you can somehow make out the annoyance on her face. You look at the other person standing in front of your friend, and you realize that it's Quinn only when you hear her sigh loudly before muttering an equally annoyed 'whatever' to Santana. Before you can register what is going on, Santana pulls back the curtain (at the protests of Nurse Riley) and smirks in your direction before walking over. She sits at the end of your cot and tosses you an ice pack from the tray at the end of your bed. Quinn follows slowly, standing beside your head, trying her best to find something interesting on the posters on the wall above you.

"That was the most hilarious fight I have ever seen in my life, Berry. Next time slug him, bitch slapping is for pimps and flamboyantly straight Jewish boys like yourself."

You roll your eyes before wincing.

"Santana, you don't have to rub it in. I obviously know that I lost, but at least I can appreciate the_...drama of it all_."

You ignore the huff from Quinn as Santana speaks.

"Actually, you didn't lose. After you went out cold, I punched Puckerman in the face...and Quinn totally kicked him in the balls. Then Schue walked up. Apparently Puck assaulting another student violates his parole... So win win for us."

Quinn finally took a seat on the stool parked by your cot, before plucking the ice pack from your chest.

"You shouldn't move with a broken nose."

You look at Quinn as she brings the icepack eye level, managing to press it gently against the swollen part of your face. You stare at her for a moment without blinking. You don't know if she's upset. There is an energy under her jittery calm exterior that you cannot place.

"Could you guys stop eye fucking-"

"Miss Lopez, out of my office."

Santana rolls her eyes and stands.

"_Whatever, it's lame in here anyway._ Rich, let me know if you need a ride home? I'll be crashing detention with Britt. Q, we'll talk later."

Quinn scowls at Santana.

"Don't look at me like that. If I can do it- you can too blondie. Get over yourself."

Santana snaps the curtain shut again, and leaves the nurses office noisily. The nurse shuffles papers around her desk before excusing herself to the principal's office. You and Quinn were alone now, an awkward tension settled between the two of you as silence stretched on. Quinn cocked her eyebrow over her glare and let the ice pack fall heavily to the floor.

"I would punch you in the face if your nose wasn't already broken. _What were you thinking, telling my boyfriend that we fooled around_?"

Quinn hissed the words out like it they burned her tongue. You sit up slowly on your elbows, noticing the slight disorientation. Quinn responds by pushing you flat onto the cot. You feel light headed.

"Don't you mean your ex-boyfriend? I don't know what I was thinking-I'm sorry. I know that I probably messed up your reputation, but I was tired of Puck's stupid threats. He kept telling me to leave you alone...and I can't- I won't."

Quinn sighed heavily.

"You have to. Nothing will happen between us."

"Something happened already and it's too late to take it back, Quinn. The damage is done. Everybody knows that there was something going on with us. You don't have to deny it anymore. You don't have to deny _**us**_ anymore."

You reach your hand out to touch Quinn's. It settles there and you let your gaze drift upward to the uncertainty in her face. She shakes her head before pulling her hand away, the rush of excitement leaves at the break in contact.

"You sound just like Santana. It's not that easy to give up everything I have been working for."

You quirk your own brow; your face still hurts.

"What do you mean; I'm just like Santana-how?"

Quinn takes a deep breath, looking in your direction but not seeing you.

"She said I was a coward. She told me that I didn't deserve you. She said that if..."

Quinn looks around even though school let out; even though Nurse Riley hadn't returned.

"...that if she can be gay with Brittany, then I could be unpopular with you." Quinn whispers it.

You surmise that that was the conversation they were having on the other side of the curtain earlier. You also realize how right Santana was.

"Well she's right-"

"Don't you think I know that? I know that it should be easy for me to be with you when you treat me better than anyone here. Like you see who I really am when you look at me. I know that it should be easy to forget about status because I like you so much-"

Quinn looked down at her now clasped hands. Her breath hitched a few times, like she couldn't catch it no matter how much she inhaled.

"...but it's not. It just makes it harder. It was easier to hate you, Richard. But now...everything is on the line and I don't know if I will be _worth it_."

Quinn let silence sit on the air. You were in shock. She'd never admitted anything about her feelings to you. And with that confirmation came your smile. It spread slowly on your cheeks and it hurt under your eyes but you didn't care because Quinn had said the words out loud and she couldn't snatch them back from you.

You lean forward even though it makes you dizzy and you kiss her slowly, ignoring the pain shooting from your face and the way your world is somersaulting. When you pull away Quinn's hand cups your cheek and you close your eyes and lean into her palm.

"Don't kiss me, Richard. It hurts for you to kiss me." Quinn whispered that too; into the air like an empty threat.

You edge into her personal space slowly. Quinn's breath catches in her throat, but she doesn't pull away. Her eyes stare unwaveringly at your lips, and you lean forward to catch her in another kiss. It's cautious, and you don't care about the feeling...it's worth it; _**she's worth it**_. You kiss her until you can't breathe, and you pull away like there are tendrils of your soul clinging to her lips in the space that stretches between you. When you open your eyes, hers are still closed. She squeezes them tighter if possible, and there is a fleeting moment of vulnerability on her features. She opens her eyes abruptly; tears glistening in the reflection of her gaze.

"It hurts every second I can't kiss you, Quinn..."

Quinn stares at you, the tear hanging on the edge of her lashes drops slowly down her face. She stands and backs away from you in one fluid motion, her right hand tugs at the knuckles of her left as she bites her lip; finally bringing her finger to wipe away the wet left behind by her sadness.

"I don't think I can do this..."

You stand, and you teeter on your feet. You ball your fists and when your brow furrows your face hurts, but you still take a step forward, reaching your hand out for Quinn's.

"Yes you can. And you can have me and you can have your status. You're Quinn Fabray. If anyone can do it...you can."

Your hands meet, and Quinn catches you as you swagger into her personal space.

"I can't be the girlfriend you want me to be. We can't hold hands and I can't save you from slushies. Hell, I won't even be able to protect myself from them."

"Well then I will help you clean up afterwards, and we can go home and get warm and it won't be bad because we'd be together. I don't care anymore. I just want you."

Quinn is looking at you like she can't believe you. Her eyes scatter across your face and slow as they reach your eyes, and she nods slowly at you before leaning in a final time to peck you gently on your lips.

"_Okay_."

You almost question her compliance, but the door to the nurse's office swings open and Quinn helps you back onto the cot just as the nurse pulls open the curtain.

"You're all clear Mr. Berry. Just keep your head elevated and ice your nose until the swelling goes down. And no more fighting. Will Miss Fabray be taking you home?"

You can't help but smile as she tells the nurse that she most definitely will.

000 0000 000

When Quinn agreed to be your girlfriend, you expected a lot of things to change. Of course, not much did besides the fact that the biggest school bully was in a juvenile detention center. It didn't take long for Azalea Adams and Dana Karofsky to take Puck's place. You were slushied consistently by the girls; but without the constant threat of physical violence, McKinely was easier to go back to every day. No one really respected your newfound popularity (by association), but people were too afraid to cross Quinn (and consequently Santana). So you went through your days as you did before with one major adjustment:

You had friends now.

You were nervous during those beginning days. You walked the halls in uncertainty, trying your best to give Quinn the space she would need at school. For a few days, the two of you avoided each other until after school- because the hushed whispers and blatant staring sometimes got the best of you. But after the residual shock wore off, people were more interested in the baby Brittany was carrying than your relationship. Soon after, you and Quinn managed to maintain a balance. You walked her to her classes, and you carried her books and kissed her goodbye. You passed notes in the classes you shared and you waited by her car most days after school...unless you waited by Santana's. It seemed like you finally got everything you could have asked for.

The only thing that did change was the one thing you counted on staying the same. But Quinn had some internal clock, ticking backwards until it restarted, and you were back at square one with her abstaining from most forms of physical contact. To say she was prudish would be insensitive, but you honestly couldn't wrap your head around Quinn's logic. It clicked after the first few weeks that Quinn was going to make you _earn it._

Sometime after your nose had finally healed, she'd formed a list of things you_ couldn't_ do. Most of the restrictions were on areas of the house (bedrooms, her car for extended periods of time and basements were off limits). And others were on how far you could get before it was time to _cool down_. You respected her wishes without complaint, but it was getting harder to stop when your hands trailed too far down her sides or when your fingers teased the band of her underwear.

It was the first time Quinn broke one of her own restrictions, and she had done so as an apology. Quinn had been adamant about keeping you and Jessica apart. You rarely held grudges, so when your former girlfriend started calling your cell phone, you picked up after ignoring the first three attempts Jessica had made. Quinn insisted that it was a trick; that Jessica was trying to get back what she'd lost. When you made plans to meet her on a quiet Sunday, you and Quinn had gotten into a heated argument about it. It ended in her hanging up on you, and you went to Jessica with an extremely large chip on your shoulder.

Jessica somehow managed to get you out of your funk, and the two of you made amends over soy lattes. With the end of that conversation came news of Jessica's acceptance to UCLA. You hugged her for what felt like the last time, and you came home to a remorseful Quinn, sitting on your front porch despite the chill.

Quinn met you with a hug and an apology, and she let you guide her inside your house. You left your coats and shoes by the door, and went to make your way to the living room. Unexpectedly, she took you by the hand and led you up the suddenly too long flight of stairs. You held your breath at the thought of what this meant by the time you and Quinn had settled on your bed. That's where you were now; stretched out beside your girlfriend on your side, your palm resting against your temple as you stare down at her as she speaks.

"... I know I was being insecure. But-everything about Jessica St James just annoys me. Santana convinced me that when you were with her you were totally still hung up on me and I finally let it go. And I know it was a silly fight and I know how much of a_**bitch**_ I can be and I'm sorry-"

You cut off Quinn's rambling to kiss her on the lips. She doesn't protest, and she gets the hint that her apology is accepted. You tug her by her hip and your elbows and knees knock as you settle into the position. Usually, whenever you lay down with Quinn it results in an instant cool down period. This time, however, Quinn pulls you closer by the collar of your shirt and deepens the kiss.

You aren't complaining.

You let her take the lead, and your arm stays at her hip and doesn't wander until Quinn sits up to unbutton her shirt. Your hands pull away automatically, your tongue stuck in your throat at the thought of seeing her in just her bra. Quinn's shaky hands unbutton the pretty blouse and you watch entranced as more skin becomes visible. A soft green camisole is revealed slowly, and you swallow the hesitation in your mouth as she lets her shirt fall away from her. You lose your breath the moment her shirt makes noise on your bed, taken with her unblemished, creamy skin. Her bra is a lovely green, and you stare at her slight cleavage for a few moments before breaking away to find the green of Quinn's eyes. Her rosy cheeks confirmes her shyness and you kiss her chastely.

You sit up in front of her, and the word_** beautiful**_ leaves your mouth in awestruck appreciation. Her skin flushes, the tint of pink against porcelain is a breathtaking contrast. You lean forward and you kiss her, grateful for this sudden reward. The kiss grows longer between you, and tension slips from her body as you continue, her shoulders relaxing as she ebbs toward you. You realize then that you are over dressed, and you tug your cardigan and undershirt over your head. Quinn grabs the back of your neck, tugging you down above her as her tongue tangles with yours. Things were heating up, and you are afraid to let your hands go anywhere off limits. Quinn reads your thoughts, pulling your hand up to cup her through the fabric of her bra.

When you squeeze, Quinn's back arches involuntarily. Her voice is thick; raspier than it ever has been as she closes her eyes and moans out your name. You can't believe she is letting you get this far, and it was taking all your willpower to keep from pressing on; from going further. Your lips find hers as you lie fully on top of her, your flesh on fire wherever it touches hers. You let your lips mingle with the tight skin on her jawline before pecking down to her ear. Her fingers are pulling at your belt loops on both sides as she presses your body into her spread thighs. Right before you kiss her neck, you inhale, letting your eyes close at the smell of her all around you.

Quinn smells like confectionate sugar and old books and happiness and you bury your face in the crook of her neck and you suckle the first spot your tongue makes contact with. Your kisses are growing sloppy as you press one to Quinn's collar bone. Her hands in your hair make your eyes stutter, but you force them open to watch her face as you kiss her again. Your mouth moves a little further south. Your kisses form a path down the valley of her breasts, and when you look back at her, her eyes follow you downward, her breath caught in her lungs. Your fingers dance across her sides and you enjoy the noise that garbles from Quinn's belly. When you make your way back to her lips, she smirks up at you. Your elbows take your weight away from her, but your hips bump erotically against hers as you settle over her again. She bucks against your hard on, and you pull back and away from her.

"Maybe we should cool down..."

You're a gentleman first and foremost. And although the exploration of her partially clothed body has your blood draining downward, you don't want to push Quinn faster than she intends to go. You lay on your back beside a shirtless Quinn and she lets out a shaky sigh.

"I don't think I want to."

Her eyes are certain. They are low lidded and dark; pupils blown as she stares at you. She pulls your hand to the button of her jeans and she smiles against your mouth when she kisses you. You don't want to anticipate what will happen. You just need for it to happen..._soon_. You lean over her and you undo her button and your hand drags down her zipper. Your breath comes out in shallow huffs, and Quinn has both her hands on your cheeks when your hand slides into her panties. You want to take her pants off... you want to see every bit of what you are doing, but Quinn holds you still as your fingertips brush against fine hair, and pulsing dampness.

She's wet. It's a slick consistency, and you dip your hand down further to cup her before swiping your finger back up over her clit. You stare at her face as you rub tiny circles over the hardened nub. Her eyes are shut tight, teeth nibbling on a corner of her mouth as she tries to stop the noises. Her hands slip away from your face as she presses down against your slowly moving hand. She opens her eyes and she looks at you, your hand strokes gently up and down her folds. You want to ask her if it's alright, if she's enjoying what you're doing. But you don't want to break the quiet noises your hand makes against her and the tiny whimpers Quinn lets out every so often whenever you add pressure. You want to push your finger inside her; you need to know how it feels.

"May I... I want to, feel-"

Quinn nods before you finish the sentence. You pull your hand from her jeans and revel in the translucent sheen of her arousal. Your first instinct is to put it to your mouth- to inhale it. So you do. Quinn's surprised intake of breath is the only thing that keeps your eyes open as you suck on your own fingers. The taste isn't describable...but you know you need more of it. You know you want to bury your face in it. You twitch inside your pants at the thought, and you will yourself not to get ahead of what you are doing now.

Your clean fingers fall from your mouth, you're captivated with the look on Quinn's face. She looks feral, like you enjoying the essence of her was something so erotic that she would burst. She exhales in slow relief, and you move away so you can pull down her jeans for better access. Quinn stops you.

"I'm not... I don't think I'm ready for that."

You don't know if she means being naked...or sex. Either way you nod and sit up on your knees.

"That's okay. I just want to be able to...use my hand."

Quinn nods again, this time with a bit of hesitance. You tug her jeans down to the bottoms of her thighs and you put your hand on the space above her belly button. You rub slow circles until Quinn's eyes close and you kiss her while your palm slides slowly down. Your finger push down her underwear, and Quinn lets out a different kind of sigh when you resume the slow stroke around her clit. When you pull your mouth away, all you want to do is _see_. Quinn's trimmed auburn hair becomes visible as your eyes follow your hand, and you stop to ask her a question.

"Why do you dye your hair? This is such a pretty color..."

Quinn's face flushes for a different reason, and she is sitting up and arranging her clothes before you can register what you did wrong.

"This wasn't a good idea-"

You're confused.

"Whatever I did- I'm sorry. Whatever it was I take it back. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable I just didn't know you weren't a natural blonde. Am I not supposed to ask a lady those kinds of questions? I know I'm not knowledgeable about a lot of social things...but your hair color doesn't change anything. I mean- you're the prettiest girl I have ever seen; you would be even if you had auburn hair."

Quinn stops to look at you. She is scowling slightly, her hands stuck on the button at the bottom of her shirt. Suddenly her features are livid. You're a bit amazed at how quickly the mood has changed.

"Oh really? If I had auburn hair and big glasses and a mouth full of metal you would still like me?"

You go to answer her but she cuts you off.

"If I was fat with a big crooked nose would you have still fought this hard to be with me?"

"Of course I would have, I like you for you, Quinn nothing would change that-"

Quinn scoffs.

"No you wouldn't have. You only wanted to be with me because I'm pretty. Some trophy for you to put on your mantle. You wanted **me** so _you_ wouldn't be such a loser. You're sitting there with a hard on because I'm pretty and skinny and popular. Admit it!"

Quinn's hands ball up at her sides as her voice grows louder. You didn't know how to answer. You didn't know if any answer you could give would be a good one. You stand cautiously. Quinn is trembling where she stands, her teeth grinding as she tries to control her rapid breathing.

"Quinn... I like you. I've liked you for a long time. Even when you treated me like crap. I liked you. I like you for your intellect. I enjoy being around you. Whenever we are alone my stomach does this flip flop and when you leave all I can think about is when I will get to see you again. Even when you're mad at me—all I look for is you. All I think about is you. I'm attracted to you physically, yes- but that's because you're all I want in every other way too. We just… fit. This isn't about your hair color is it? What's this really about?"

Quinn deflates. She collapses onto your bed and rubs at her face. She speaks quietly, a decibel above a secret. You crouch in front of her and take her hand.

"Nobody knows... I guess it makes it easier not to tell the truth. I'm not... I'm not who I make myself out to be."

And there it is. Since you've been pining after Quinn, she's been an enigma. This back and forth between you has only made you want to get to know her more- to see past all the layers she put on to keep up appearances. Trusting Quinn had been hard. Knowing that she would do anything for the sake of her popularity. Knowing that she could be using you; that she could embarrass you– were all major reasons you haven't grappled with the task of putting yourself out there fully. But now, Quinn trusted you with this secret. This huge thing that could undo her. You listen with rapt attention as she takes a deep breath before continuing.

"I used to be Lucy. Lucy Quinn Fabray. I was huge and ugly and I didn't have any friends and I had bad acne and braces. Life had been so horrible for me. And then one day... My dad had been offered a job here. And I found out I was athletic and I got into gymnastics. I let my sister dye my hair and got my braces removed. And then I asked my dad for a nose job. And he let me get one. When I got here I just... I just wanted to be Quinn. I just wanted everyone to like me. I wanted to be that girl everyone wanted. Or wanted to be."

A single tear slipps down Quinn's face. She wipes it away and stares somewhere past you. She's tense, sitting on the edge of your bed in an unbuttoned shirt. You felt like this had been a bigger gift than anything she could have given you. Quinn was letting you see her for the first time and you realized how much you still liked her...even more than you did before.

"I like you. I like you as Lucy and as Quinn and as anyone you ever want to be."

You wipe away the next tear that falls on Quinn's cheek.

"You're just saying that. If you saw the pictures-"

"I would still feel the same way. You know I would."

"Don't say that if you don't mean it."

"I mean it. _Show me_."

Quinn looked at you with trepidation. She finished buttoning her shirt and you found yours, and you found your coat and shoes by your door—Quinn leading the way.

000 0000 000

When you first saw Lucy, you saw her as someone you could identify with. Lucy had the same sad eyes and the shy smile you used to take to school. You saw so much of Lucy in Quinn when Quinn wasn't being the head cheerleader. You saw the tenacity of her spirit and the perseverance to keep trying. And no matter how long you stared at the picture of Lucy, nothing you liked about Quinn changed. If anything, how you felt about Quinn grew. Sure, there were times when your bickering bordered vindictive. And okay, sometimes your disagreements ended in random bouts of growling. But every time you couldn't have her you sought her out. Because there was just something so magnetic between you and Quinn. Something changed after you met Lucy. There was something more than chemistry; feelings that you hid from because they seemed to blossom so easily—so honestly.

Quinn's restrictions lessened over time. And before you knew it—she was surprising you in new ways.

This time it was because of your six month anniversary. The night had went flawlessly, and Santana had pushed a case wine coolers on you _(because she couldn't drink them with Brittany… shut up—_ her words not yours). After your night out, you and Quinn came back to your house (your mothers were luckily at a bed and breakfast for their own couples weekend), and lounged on the couch watching old black and white French movies with subtitles. You'd both had a few wine coolers, and the movie was the least of your worries as Quinn wiggled beside you. She was whispering things into your ear, her warm cheeks brushing against your earlobe as you giggled. She had put the movie on mute, and she was making a mockery of what the main characters were arguing about on screen.

Then the mood changed.

The French woman on screen clung desperately to her male counterpart, their kissing passionate and heated as they fell away to the bed. Fireworks blasted across the screen, and Quinn pulls your attention to what she is doing in your lap. The next screen isn't important, because your lap is hot and Quinn's palm feels so good against your growing bulge. She purrs in your ear, things you can't make out until she squeezes you through your slacks and demands to see _**it**_.

It's the first time Quinn has been the aggressor, and you're sure she has a bit of courage coursing through her system- but so do you. You turn away from the shades of grey bouncing off your face from the television screen and you look at her. She doesn't break your gaze, instead, her eyebrow quirks in a silent dare, and your hand shoots to your zipper before you realize that you've accepted it.

Things have been progressing modestly between you. You've explored new territory with Quinn (you honestly feel like grinding is your new favorite activity), but you couldn't have anticipated her wanting to see your penis. Or heavens-_**touch it**_ with her bare hands. You pull yourself from your underwear, stroking a couple of times under Quinn's scrutiny. You're a bit nervous, because no one has ever told you if it's big enough-good enough. So you hold your breath and make a point to watch the television screen, pumping yourself to full length as Quinn stares down at your lap.

She traces her finger around the shell of your ear, letting her fingertips walk into the edge of your hairline. It's still quiet, and you pull your hand away when you're finally hard, waiting to see what Quinn wants to do. She kisses that place right beneath your earlobe and you lean into her, hoping for more pressure just as she sucks the spot. You close your eyes and let her tongue dance on your skin, as Quinn's kisses shoot straight to your groin. When she stops, you let them open just as her hand wraps around the base of you. You marvel in the fact that her fingertips don't touch, and you feel precum drip lazily down your shaft.

You shudder out a broken breath when Quinn strokes up. Her mouth closes in on your ear and she whispers scandalously to you.

"You have a beautiful cock..."

It is by far the dirtiest compliment you have ever received. The word crawls off Quinn's tongue infamously, and it drags into your brain and straight to your penis. It twitches in Quinn's hand and you let your head fall to the edge of the couch with a groan as Quinn grips you more firmly. The next stroke up has your hips following Quinn's movements, and you snap your eyes back to her moving hand. You wanted to remember every single moment of this.

"Do you think of me when you touch yourself?"

Quinn is barely audible, but your ears strain for her husky voice. You lift your sweater up and hold it against your chest. You love seeing Quinn's moving hand against the naked parts of your body. You nod enthusiastically at her question, and squeak out a more in depth response when Quinn loosens her grip- unsatisfied with your answer.

"_**Yes**_... Sometimes I don't even have to touch myself."

You're whispering too, afraid to break the noises that are being made into the air. Quinn runs her hand up your shaft and twists her wrist as she pumps over the head of you, dragging your fluids down with her stroke. You're momentarily distracted.

_"Oh my God, Quinn_. S-sometimes I just wake up wet...even in my sleep I can't control how much you turn me on."

Quinn bites her lip in your peripheral view, and she speeds up at her next question.

"And what do you dream about, Richard? Do you dream about being inside me? Because sometimes I do. I wonder how full you'd make me feel. How deep you'd reach."

You're barely keeping your shirt up enough to see what she is doing. You know Quinn's tongue is loose because of the alcohol, but you won't pass up the opportunity to listen to her whisper naughty things into your ear. Your hips thrust to follow her hand and you feel hot everywhere.

"Tell me what gets you off Rich..."

Quinn is squirming in her seat, flexing her own thighs to create friction. Her movement adds a new element to the rhythm she makes with her hand and you try to make your voice steady enough to answer.

"Sometimes I dream about what it would be like to taste you...how wet you would get inside my mouth. Sometimes I dream about _where_ I could have you."

Quinn is teasing your neck again, the wet smack of her lips combating the sound your skin makes as she milks your.._.cock (you like that word better when Quinn says it)_.

You continue speaking through the noises.

"Like on stage, with everyone watching. Or in the choir room on top of the p-piano- yes keep doing that that feels so good."

Quinn chuckles in your ear, the noise a sultry cocktail of tension and arousal.

"I've had a dream like that before. But...in that dream I'm on my knees in front of you. And you are leaning against the piano. When I dream about that I have to wake up and..._relieve myself_."

You feel yourself straining in Quinn's hand. Her mouth being anywhere near your penis has you excited. You can't stop the barrage of images bombarding your brain- Quinn staring up at you, Quinn's mouth wrapped around you. You start to throb, Quinn's pace and grip are perfect and you feel yourself tighten before it begins shoots up your shaft. You pull her hand away and catch the mess just as it pulses out of you, and Quinn's eyes are fixed as you ejaculate into your own hand.

You breathe deeply for a few moments as you soften, and when you find enough strength to keep your knees from buckling, you get up to wash your hands. When you return, Quinn is sitting on the couch, her legs rubbing back and forth against each other. There is a flush to her cheeks that you are sure can be attributed to her current state of arousal. You haven't touched her intimately since that first time, and you are so tempted to finish what you started. You sit down beside her and you pull both her legs over your lap. You let your hand rest over her skirt on her hip. It's a long flowy one, so your clammy hand drags the fabric up until it is bunched at her thighs. Quinn doesn't stop you as you run your hand up her bare thigh, eliciting a quiet gasp as you trace languidly up and down the sensitive skin.

You look to Quinn, biting your lip as she nods at you. It's okay. This is okay. The backs of your knuckles brush over the damp of her panties, and Quinn spreads her legs until her feet are pressing against your thigh. She is spread open erotically, her pastel pink panties a darker color where the patch of wetness spreads from top to bottom. You need them _**off**_.

"May I take these off... I want to see you."

You're sure what's coursing through your veins now is adrenaline, and your heart beat quickens when Quinn nods slowly.

"No one has ever...seen it before."

Quinn looks a bit worried. You guess girls have those same insecurities guys have about such private places. You rub your hand on her knee reassuringly, and Quinn gulps. Most of her courage seems gone as well, as a sober and shaky sigh pushes out of her mouth. The television set is still providing light as you grip the elastic band of Quinn's underwear. You look her in the eyes as you pull her panties down. The musky, unique scent of Quinn seeps your olfactory senses, and you swallow mouthfuls of the smell as you finally break eye contact. Quinn's legs close instinctively, and you look back up at her before gripping her knees lightly with the tips of your fingers to open them back up.

When you look at her sex for the first time, draped under the curtain her dress makes over her spread legs, your mouth _salivates_. Quinn is swollen-engorged expanses of soft pink skin are calling out to your hands, still settled on Quinn's knees. Her clit is hard and exposed over dainty folds, glistening with her provocation. You look at Quinn, who is nervously quiet, biting her lip as you gape, open mouthed at her sex.

"It's..._sexy_."

You don't think to call it beautiful. But it's so bold in the vulgarity of the moment- and you're easily growing hard again at the thought of touching her there; of bringing her to orgasm. Your mouth goes dry at that thought, and you move your hand to trace her slit slowly. Quinn decides not to look away, and she tilts her hips toward you until her dress slides to her waist; until her slick sex is aimed up at you, begging to be touched. You let a single finger trace around her entrance, and with the juices collecting there, you rub your damp finger over her clit lightly. Her breath hitches when you begin circling the small bundle of nerves, and her hips undulate as you find the things she likes.

Quinn looks at you while you're doing it, and not down to see the scene unleashed in front of you. You finally look away from it to watch her face. You watch her chest rise and fall heavily as your fingers move over her clit. You like how her hips buck when you zigzag downward and slide back up again as Quinn grows wetter. You like listening to the sound Quinn is making. Little whimpers when you add pressure, large intakes of breath when you barely touch her. It feels like you are getting to know her in an entirely new way. Her voice deepens as she moans aloud; the noise is long and guttural as you flick lightly over her clit. When you slide your finger down to her entrance again, you press your it to her in question.

"Mmmmhmmm. It's okay, just...go slow."

You take a deep breath yourself, trying hard not to just thrust your finger forward. You're gentle, and Quinn holds your wrist where it is for a few seconds before moving her own hips to envelope you in an intensely throbbing heat.

You moan out loud together (because _wow_), and you pull your finger out before letting it slide back inside. You start slowly, noticing the slight wince Quinn makes when you go too fast. She's tight, suffocatingly so, and you hope what you're doing can get her off the same way she did for you. With your other hand, you stroke her clit, liking how she keens from the back of her throat at the dual sensation. You keep pace, alternating rhythm as Quinn's hips meet your thrusts. She starts shaking, grabbing at couch pillows as you look down, the creamy evidence of her impending orgasm collecting on the single finger pumping in and out of her.

Quinn is loud as she climaxes.

"God Rich, please keep going... I'm gonna- you're gonna make me—"

Your breath is erratic, and you feel her clenching down on your single digit, her hip banging against your palm as she gyrates against both of your still moving hands. Her moans sound like melodies to your erection, and you find yourself aching with her as she climbs to the very brink of her release.

When Quinn comes, you feel her crashing violently around your finger, a gush of wetness coats your palm as Quinn mewls out her orgasm. The force of her thundering muscles and the euphoria on her face catapults you into an orgasm yourself, and you find yourself ruining your underwear before slumping forward. You pull your pleasantly sticky hand away. The only noise in the room comes from both your calming breaths. Quinn finds her underwear and pulls them on, and snuggles closer to you before leaning on your shoulder.

"That was amazing..."

You're tired. Quinn sounds just as tired as she hums in agreement. Her voice is scratchy and heavy.

"Yea but we missed the movie..."

The credits roll down the screen and you smirk.

"That's totally okay."

Because it totally was.

000 0000 000

You and Quinn spent a lot of time together. So much so that your mothers finally started to notice how often she was over. How often the two of you talked over the phone, how often the two of you went out together. It was a startling contrast to before, when your mothers worried that you would need counseling for your lack of friends. They knew nothing of Quinn, and they forced you to call her so they could get to know the girl their son was so smitten with.

When the night came, you were nervous that they wouldn't like her. You worried that they would find some fault in your relationship and pick at it. But dinner went without a hitch, and you got the nods of approval from your parents. After Quinn left, you also got the safe sex talk. Rules and restrictions were set, and most of the freedom you'd had so far with privacy was taken away. Time stretched over the course of the school year, and you and Quinn had less and less time with the house to yourself. Regionals approached, and even though your team lost- begrudgingly to your remorseful biological father's team- you were high off the birth of Brittany's (and consequently Santana's) son, Emanuel.

Summer started and you found reprieve from your mothers' strict open door policy. Some days, you and Quinn lounged around the house, other days you spent with Santana and Brittany and the baby. You even found new friendships with Katherine Hummel and Mercedes Jones. Everything was shaping up to make your year perfect.

You hadn't been thinking about sex with Quinn. Or at least, you tried not to. You liked the easy intimacy developing, and you didn't need sex to feel complete with her. When it happened, it would- and you found out firsthand the last week in July.

You and Quinn had the house for the weekend. Your mothers were visiting your great Aunt Sylvia, and they left you behind with instructions not to throw any parties. You and Quinn were alone in the house, listening to music in your bedroom. Somehow over the course of the past ten minutes, Quinn had gotten hold of your iPod dock remote, and she teased you about changing the station to hardcore rap. Wrestling ensued, and you found yourself tumbling around on your bed with Quinn beneath you, the blonde in question giggling like a school girl.

Something inside you tugs at your chest as you watch her laugh fade into an easy smile, the words tumble out of your mouth confidently.

"I love you."

You didn't care if it was too fast or if she didn't say it back. You didn't care if Quinn thought you were crazy. It was simply how you felt. And Quinn had to know. You watch her face sober, her smile a memory as she looks at you incredulously. You won't take it back. She stares at you, her eyes bouncing off the contours of your face, her brows furrowed curiously. You hold your breath, watching her face change as you let your weight fall on top of her. Quinn doesn't speak. She pulls you down by the ears and she kisses you hard on the mouth. By the time you come up for air, you almost forget the reason she kissed you in the first place.

"_Thank you_..."

She says it like she's lost in the reverence of the moment.

"You're the first person to say that to me and mean it. I love you too, Richard."

This time you kiss Quinn first, and you don't stop as you roll over. Kissing Quinn never gets old, and no matter how long you kiss her you never tire from it. It's getting hot in your room, and Quinn pulls your shirt over your head while you're still lying on top of her. You unbutton her shirt and let it hang loosely at her sides. By the time Quinn unsnaps her bra, you can't breathe. You've never seen this part of her before- often covered by her underwear or other articles of clothing- and you feel yourself stir at the thought of her nudity. When she pulls the bra off, you stare at her perky, perfectly round breasts and you reach out to touch one with your hand. Quinn arches into your touch, smirking devilishly before turning you both over; with her on top. She's wearing shorts and she doesn't have on her sandals, both her toned legs are gripping at your sides as you palm her breasts again in the new position.

Quinn grinds down hard over your erection, rolling her hips so suggestively that you can't control your thoughts of her riding you like this during sex. When Quinn leans over you, her breasts tickle you, and you hold her to your chest as she goes to murmur in your ear.

"Do you have condoms?"

You gulp, releasing your grip on your girlfriend as she stares down at you, waiting for a reply.

"A-are you sure? We don't have to if you're not ready I mean-"

Quinn presses her finger to your lips. She moves it to kiss you again.

"Do you…have _condoms_?"

Quinn bites her lip to squelch a smile.

You nod, and she smiles against your mouth when she kisses you next time. Suddenly there is a nervous energy buzzing under your skin. What if it hurts for her? What if you couldn't last? What if it was weird and awkward and you didn't like it? You take a deep breath- it reminded you of the steadying breath before a big performance- and you get up to pull out the box of condoms with the gold wrappers (you took Santana's advice about trying them on and realized how easy cleanup was when you used them to masturbate).

Quinn unbuttons her shorts and tugs them down slightly on her hips before stopping, and rolling over so that you're above her. Your heart is beating so hard in your chest that you are afraid you might break your ribcage. Quinn looks nervous too, and you try to kiss reassurance into her. You kiss her until your mouth travels on its own accord, finding her left nipple before you circle it with the tip of your tongue. Quinn's eyes snap shut and she lets out a sigh, gripping the base of your neck as you began to suck and nibble on it. When your mouth latches on to the right one, your hand takes its place on the left and you knead it, enjoying the mewling coming from Quinn.

You play with her breasts for an entirely long amount of time, becoming acquainted with your new favorite part of Quinn's anatomy. By the time your tongue circles Quinn's belly button, her body is quivering. You pull away from her momentarily to remove the rest of your clothes, goosebumps tricking your brain into thinking you were cold.

Quinn stares at you from your bed, topless in her shorts as you let her see all of you unhindered. She looks over you appreciatively as you crawl back up the bed. You sit beside her hip, gripping the edges of her shorts and playing with the waistband.

"I want you to be comfortable... I want to get you...ready."

You've talked about this with Quinn before. You'd actually taken the time to understand what it meant if you had sex. You want it to be perfect. Your lips are dry. You lick them, and Quinn looks at you like she doesn't understand what you're asking.

"Ready _**how**_?"

Quinn quirks her brow uncertainly.

"I want to..." you lick your lips, "I want to taste you. I want to get you ready... You should be..." you take a stammering breath, "..._wet_ so it doesn't hurt as much."

Your eyes glide down to the opening of her unbuttoned shorts.

"You want to put your mouth..._**down there**_?"

You nod slowly. Quinn scoots up toward your headboard and leans against it slightly.

"Okay. But...o-only if you want to."

You do.

"I do...I really do."

She nods, her lip nestles again under her teeth, and you pull down her shorts and underwear and let them fall quietly to the floor. You take her in naked, your hard on presses wetly against your stomach as you look at her.

"You're... You're_ perfect_."

Your hands rub Quinn's thighs, and you spread her legs enough so you can lie between them. She refuses to look anywhere else but at your eyes.

"I'm happy I waited, Richard... I'm glad it's you."

Quinn whispers it sincerely.

You kiss her sensuously, the naked parts of you graze and you mewl into each other's mouths. You slide down, kissing any flesh your lips touch until you are face to face with Quinn's sex. She's wet, but it doesn't seem like it'll be enough to accommodate you. You run your fingers up and down the length of her, hoping that Quinn will enjoy this just as much as you feel like you will.

When you press your lips to her clit, you pucker. You let the flat of your tongue spread her and you hold her hips to the bed as she rises, her arms wrapping around herself as you taste her fully. You are a novice at best, but you suckle and lick and flick your tongue for reactions, and you acknowledge that you love tasting Quinn so _intimately_. Her hands burrow and grip at your hair, and her thighs shudder around your ears as you savor every second.

You take pauses to ask her if you're doing it right, and the growl she emits before pushing your head back to where it was is a solid enough answer for you to continue. You realize as you press your tongue against her pulsing entrance that you could do this for hours.

Quinn's hips are fumbling against your mouth as you wiggle your tongue broadly inside her. There is a mantra of words coming out her mouth that you can't make out with her legs squeezed so tightly against your ears. You grab Quinn's thighs and tug her down and roll her hips up, changing the angle as you spread them apart from the inside. Your erection is grinding against the bed in this position, and you try to stop the friction by concentrating on Quinn's reactions. The small of Quinn's back is off the bed, her arms spread out on either side of her as she grips violently at the sheets. Her eyes are squeezed tight, and she bites her lip to stop words from coming out.

You drag your tongue from her entrance to her clit, her silky folds are exposed, and you can feel her throbbing in the wake of your mouth. The words Quinn has been stifling fall out when you suck lightly at the bundle of nerves.

"Ohmygodthatfeels so-mmmmmhmmm. Do you like it, Rich? Does it _taste good_?"

A shudder fast runs through you at the pure sex dripping from Quinn's voice. You've never heard her so eager (not even when you did things together over the telephone—your hips buck at the recollection of _that _conversation). Quinn is bouncing in answer to your tongue, and you rub your lower half against the bed to stop the ebbing need clenching in your gut. You could get off from this; bringing this beautiful girl beneath you pleasure (and you just might if she keeps shouting out dirty things that make your insides thrum). You don't dare move your mouth away; instead you hum eagerly into her sex; bobbing your head and refusing to lose the spot that has Quinn crumbling on the edge. Quinn bucks against the vibration, and her legs shake involuntarily. She reflexively tries to shut them as you continue with the motion, but you press your hands against the insides of her thighs and spread her open. Quinn's deep breath shakes from her mouth, and she forces herself to stay still as you continue. With the tip of your tongue, you flick horizontally across her clit. Quinn is quivering everywhere, as she brings her hand to squeeze her breast you try not to lose stamina.

Your lower half starts to rock and you enjoy the sounds of her voice in ecstasy. You feel your climax build as you pump against the bed. Quinn seems to feel your movement as you lap at her; and she falls noisily into her own orgasm.

A long, strangled moan chokes from Quinn's quaking body at the same time you empty yourself onto your bed. You move your hips away from the surface as you feel Quinn thump against your chin while aftershocks ripple through her. You pull away from her spasming body, and you watch her calm down. Quinn opens and closes her legs repeatedly, looking tiredly up at you. You push your comforter to the end of your bed and you wipe your mouth on the back of your hand. You lay beside her.

Quinn purrs against you when you pull her closer by her waist, and she puts her head flat on your chest.

"_Did you_..."

Quinn asks when she notices that you're semi flaccid.

"I couldn't help it. That was... _Was_ _that_... Did I do okay?

You shouldn't feel as bashful as you do. Especially now that you and Quinn are lounging naked on your soiled bed.

"Mmmmhmmm. My legs feel like jelly."

You squeeze Quinn closer to you. You could be content just falling asleep beside her. But Quinn has other ideas as she runs her hands lazily across your chest. She sits up on her elbows before kissing the front of your shoulder, and you smirk before moving her hair from her face. Her kisses continue down your chest. She runs a lazy tongue over your nipple, and she stares at you with hooded eyes before biting down with the edge of her teeth. You suck in your breath without flinching, running your hand through Quinn's hair. Quinn chuckles in response, and moves over to the other. Your hand tugs at strands of hair when Quinn's teasing sends shockwaves to your crotch and Quinn moans appreciatively in response.

Quinn's lips move so slowly over your flesh that you're sure you might combust. Her fingertips run circles on random parts of your body as she works above you; you never knew that your nerves endings could literally set aflame. You feel yourself stir as Quinn's mouth traverses your legs. Her lips feel so soft against your skin, and you feel your hips buck when she kisses you on your side. Quinn travels quickly back up to your abdomen, reaching over to grab a condom from the box (when had you gotten so hard?).

When Quinn leans over your waist to roll the condom down your engorged shaft, you have to take another steadying breath. This was really going to happen. Quinn's dainty hands push the latex down until it won't unravel anymore. Your breaths come out shallow, and you rub at your face to calm yourself down. Quinn lies down beside you, her hand resting beneath your belly button. She kisses your cheek, oddly enough like a best friend would; chastely, and with trust. You situate yourself above her, leaning back enough so that you are sliding between her folds.

"Are you sure?"

It comes out quietly. The moment is so delicate. Quinn's legs squeeze around you and she snakes her own hand down to wrap around you. You lean down to kiss her when she guides you to her entrance. Quinn pulls away fiercely to stare you directly in the eye.

"I'm positive."

Quinn says it with such reverence in her voice that you whimper. You push forward slowly, making sure not to look away; not to close your eyes. Quinn's face is impassive. She frowns slightly when you push the head in. She closes her eyes when you inch forward, and you watch for her reaction when you feel resistance; tight around your smothered member. And then you start to _feel it_. You feel the heat; the welcoming heat that's only smoldering around a quarter of what's sheathed inside her. _You're inside of Quinn_. The moment is sobering. Quinn nods at you, her eyes opening with a tear or two; they tumble down her cheeks as you press on. Halfway in she gasps out loud and she pinches the backs of your elbows. She's wet, open but still so constricting, hot and pulsing, thumping and tickling against your shaft. You take a deep breath.

"Do you want me to stop?"

Quinn shakes her head.

"No. Keep going."

She whispers it.

Quinn's hands loosen and you kiss her. The noise is loud and intimate and it solidifies that it's really happening. **You're losing your virginity.** You don't move any other part of your body and you kiss her until she relaxes. Until you feel her breathing even out and you moan all the way in to the hilt. She groans, the noise is drawn out and blunt as she wraps her legs tightly around your hips; her arms squeeze around your shoulders. You don't move. Quinn is shaking and you are positive you are too. You want to look to see where you are joined, since it feels so perfect to be inside her. Quinn exhales a breath you weren't aware she'd been holding and she speaks through a shaky throat.

"You can move, now."

And you do. You pull back your hips and you see stars at the friction as an entirely overwhelming sensation takes ahold of you. Your thighs are trembling but you manage to push back into her slowly. Quinn is quiet. She buries her head in the crook of your neck and her forearms crush against you as you softly tap out a rhythm. You feel her everywhere. You feel her deep; you feel her clenching down tightly around you- cocooning you in moist velvet and radiating warmth. You pull out almost all the way and you find a fantastic place on the inside of her that rubs against the head of your penis and makes you choke out a moan that you whimper into Quinn's ear. Quinn begins to mewl with you, and you feel the flitter of Quinn's muscles reverberating around your shaft.

"Oh Rich, you're so deep."

Quinn's arms tuck beneath your armpits and she rakes her fingernails along your spine. You feel the balls of Quinn's feet digging into the bottom of your back as your stroke quickens. Your breathing is uncontrollable, and your eyes flutter shut as you pivot in and out of Quinn's swollen sex. Quinn's legs unwrap and open around you. You lean back without pulling out of her, because you have to look down… you have to see. You look. Quinn looks so tiny around you, and you get heady over the sight of seeing your shaft thickly disappearing into her. You set a slower pace, eager to know what Quinn enjoys; trying to slow down before this is over before it really starts.

You lean over Quinn on your elbows; if you stare at where you're joined it will undo you. You pull out until the head of you is all that's sheathed inside her, and you thrust forward with bit of force; satisfied with the thick bang the headboard makes against the wall and the noise it knocks out of Quinn's stomach.

"Ughnnn, yes, Rich, keep doing that."

You manage to keep pace, ignoring the fluttering inferno that is throbbing around your dick. You concentrate on the headboard as it thumps against the wall, and the quiet "oh, oh, oh's" spilling out of Quinn's mouth. You feel how wet she is, as you begin to slide in and out of her without resistance. You get lost in the sensation of friction and heady over the realization that you'll never tire of doing this; with Quinn. Your next thrust forward makes a squish sound between your bodies, and you slam in until you're balls deep. You stop, because you feel the tension from the base of your shaft and you can feel the tiny contractions as Quinn responds to the movement.

You take the time to kiss her, fully inside her and unmoving, and you do so until your body calms down. Your feet are burning and Quinn's hair is haloed over your pillow and everything is so perfect that you feel a tug from a completely different part of your body. Quinn smiles coyly up at you, and her face quickly changes when your hands go to her hips and grip there steadily. You're sitting up on your knees, and you hold her in your arms like she might break before sliding out of her, and strongly back into her. Your pull her hips down as you stroke into her. She's biting her lip now, her eyes stutter upward, her back arching until she is leaning on the palms of her hands grinding into you without help. She's basically on your lap, wanton with arousal as she starts moving her hips on her own accord.

There are no more signs of discomfort as Quinn sits fully up on you, wrapping her arms around your neck, teasing at the space above your shoulder blades. You hold her hips steadily when you thrust up, and you groan out when you realize how much tighter she is when she is impaled over you. Quinn's hands move under your armpits again, and she scratches hard up and down your back as you bounce.

"_Harder_."

Quinn says it in between breaths as you feel the burn in your legs when you pick up pace. You wrap your arm around her waist and you pound into her relentlessly, high off the sounds of Quinn's surprised moans and the feeling of her fingernails opening skin down your back. Quinn's lips are beside your ear as she speaks aloud.

"Fuck me Richard, I can take it."

You have to stop to keep from spilling into your condom. She never curses. It's dirty enough to have your head spinning and Quinn whines as you lean forward, nearly collapsing as you lay her on her back again. You are out of breath and sweating, the salty musk of you and Quinn sheening off your heaving bodies. You aren't sure how you've lasted this long, but you attribute your endurance to the lack of orgasms you've given Quinn. You spread Quinn's legs as wide as they can go while bent (thank goodness for cheerleading) and you stroke into her without looking away.

"Are you sure you can take it?"

Quinn smirks.

"Are you sure you can?"

You slam into her as she ends her sentence, knocking the smirk off her face. Her mouth forms a tiny 'O' as she grabs backwards to hold down onto your headboard. The headboard continues its steady rhythm as you stroke into Quinn without stopping. It's getting harder to control your hips as you move, and you shudder this time when you pull out and thrust back into her.

"Quinn, can you... Can you come like this?"

"_Can you make me come like this?_"

Quinn's hand makes a beeline for her own clit, and the image is working you up into something you might not be able to stop. You pull out of her completely and you stroke yourself to get rid of the pulsing feeling of Quinn's fluctuating muscles. You let out a sigh, looking down at your girlfriend as she smirks at you.

"Guess not..."

You love a challenge, and you slide back into Quinn when you've found your bearings and the banging of your headboard resumes. Quinn's fingers are moving diligently between you, running small, fast circles around her clit as you rattle your bedframe.

"Rich, oh, oh, faster!"

Quinn's voice sounds like its choking up her throat- it's thick and delicious and something inside her feels like its swelling. You comply, shortening your strokes and rocking into Quinn fervently.

"Make. Me. Come. Richard."

You look down at Quinn's face and you almost falter at the ferocity you find there. She's close, you feel her contracting around you, violent shudders climbing up the length of your stroke as you grind into her. You feel her hands still rubbing quickly at her clit, the only difference is the amount of fingers Quinn is using to rub (it feels like four now). Quinn leans up and kisses you, and she bites your lip with a grunt that she drags out with her thundering muscles. The swell and grip is so amazing that it almost forces you out, and you lean over Quinn as her fingers rub frantically around her clit. You grit your teeth and you grip Quinn's hips and you are slipping almost all the way out of her before you slam back in. Your head falls on her shoulder and she is screaming and you are about to lose it right then.

You bite into her shoulder on the next stroke, and Quinn's entire body bucks and vibrates against you. The noise she lets out is a strangled wail, and the words that follow are combinations of 'yes" and "I love you". You feel like her insides are reconstructing around you as they milk you, and you buck into her a few more times before you find your own relief. Your arms can't hold you up anymore and you fall sideways, pulling Quinn with you as you slide out of her still seizing sex.

The air is warm around you. You feel tired everywhere. All of your muscles feel worked, but your body is completely relaxed. You pull off the condom that is loose around your penis and you toss it into the bin beside your bed. Quinn is curling into you, her face pressing against your chest as you pull the (un) ruined sheet over the two of you. Quinn sighs, her sleepy eyes stare up at you as you snuggle closer to her. It's still daylight out, and you figure that you can nap and wake up way before Quinn has to leave.

"Are you okay?"

Quinn nods, yawning against your chest as you glance down in time to see her eyes droop shut.

"I feel a bit sore...but it'll be fine. How do you feel?"

You smile down at her and you feel that tug you felt earlier pull again; right over the space Quinn's head rested.

"I feel...perfect."

You feel Quinn's "mmmhmmmm" before you hear it, and you tangle your fingers in the hairs on her scalp as she let her body succumb to sleep.

You felt perfect...because everything finally was.

End.

A/N: I've decided to do something a little different with this universe. I will be posting a short (well, short for my standards) epilogue updating on a lot of the characters. I have also decided to write a one shot involving this reference from the chapter:

"Ohmygodthatfeels so-mmmmmhmmm. Do you like it, Rich? Does it _taste good_?"

A shudder fast runs through you at the pure sex dripping from Quinn's voice. You've never heard her so eager (not even when you did things together over the telephone—your hips buck at the recollection of _that _conversation).

It will be call Seeing Stars: A Companion Piece Told Through Sound. It will basically be the phone conversation without any of Richard's internal monologue.

Also—a reader questioned me this and I decided to answer it here.

In Seeing Stars you kinda get up close and personal in the mind of a teenage boy. Do you ever feel weird writing about young children engaging in sexual activity?

In short—I don't feel "weird". I don't think of what I write as weird (a better word that comes to mind is taboo). I think sexual maturity is a state of awareness. When I was sixteen years old, I had sex. I was a sexual being. I didn't feel wrong or "weird" about my first sexual experience. I felt enlightened. The urges, feelings, and emotions I felt at that age are no less important than those I experience now in my adulthood. These characters are fictional—and are often portrayed by twenty something year old attractive adults. It gives certain liberties to a lot of the feelings toward what I am writing. Also, this entire fic was a prompt fill. Something I wrote in answer to a challenge set forth by a reader. My original writing, often doesn't deal with any of the things I put out there in fan fiction. A lot of the time, these prompts are practice for my versatility and style. I tend to take things I normally wouldn't come up with and I give it a go so I can get out of my comfort zone. It often teaches me something.

Thanks for reading.


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